To Be Free
by Lady Jill Pole
Summary: Aravis receives a message from Lasaraleen that causes her to embark on a journey to Calormen with Cor and Corin. Together, they must find a way to save a girl from her impending marriage to a cruel Tarkaan. Rated T just for safety.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, bother it all!" an annoyed voice drifted out into the corridor.

Prince Cor of Archenland smirked knowingly before lightly knocking on the partially open mahogany door.

"Come in- oof!"

Cor's smirk turned into a wide grin as he walked into the room. It was in disarray; the wardrobe on one wall had clothes spilling out of it onto the floor, a chair that had apparently once held a stack of books and papers had been tipped onto its side, and the large canopied bed was unmade. But perhaps the thing that made the prince smile the widest was the sight of the occupant of the room sprawled face-first on a pile of pillows and cushions at the foot of the bed. Her skirts were tangled around her flailing legs and her thick, curly black hair hung in her face as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

"Stop staring, Cor," she said shortly as she finally managed to pull herself into a standing position.

The grin stayed on Cor's face as he moved farther into the room. "Having clothing troubles again, Aravis?" he asked.

Aravis impatiently pushed her hair out of her face, revealing her flashing eyes. "It's not my fault I wasn't raised in Northern clothing!"

"Neither was I, but you don't see me having trouble dressing myself every morning," came his answer.

"That's because you're a boy, and boys' clothes are much easier to wear and dress oneself in. _You_ don't have to bother with skirts and underskirts and miles and miles of buttons!"

"If you think boys' clothes are so great, why don't you wear them?"

Aravis glared at him and responded, "I'm a girl, and girls don't wear boys' clothes-" then as the prince opened his mouth to speak again, she added, "-unless they're trying to run away, so you won't say a word about my brother's armor, Cor, if you know what's good for you!"

Cor remained silent, and Aravis began tugging on the back of her dress and reaching over her shoulder, trying to grasp something. Then, as she turned her head, trying to see the back of her dress, she lost her balance and fell back into the pile of cushions again. Cor chuckled at the sight of Aravis once again struggling to become upright.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Cor!" Aravis cried, exasperated, once she managed to stand up again. "You might try helping me!"

Eyes twinkling, Cor strode over to her as she turned her back to him and pulled her long black hair in front of her shoulders.

Cor raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the back of her dress. "Goodness, Aravis. I didn't know it was possible to make such mess of a simple buttoning job."

"Just fix it, please, Cor?"

"Well, since you asked nicely…" He began re-buttoning the upper half of the top layer of her dress. It truly was a mess. Most of the buttons were in the wrong holes, and some of them were in backwards. In addition, some of Aravis's hair had caught on a few buttons and Cor had to resort to yanking on it.

"Ouch! What are you doing?" she yelped.

"Hold still." He yanked harder on one particularly stubborn lock of hair.

"Ouch! Cor, stop it!" She wrenched herself out of his grasp and rubbed her scalp.

"I'm trying to help!"

Aravis glared at him. "The last time I checked, buttoning a dress didn't involve ripping the hair out of my scalp!"

Cor clenched his fists and glared back at her. "It does if your hair is tangled hopelessly in your dress. And besides, I wasn't ripping the hair out of your scalp."

"I suppose the hair in your hand doesn't belong to me, then?"

Looking down at his tightly closed fingers, Cor saw that, indeed, a few strands of black hair dangled from them. He sighed and apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Aravis. Look, do you want me to button your dress or not?"

With a huff, Aravis turned around and stood still while Cor finished fixing the back of her dress. He was as gentle as he possibly could be and Aravis managed to not make a sound when he accidentally pulled out more of her hair.

"Thank you," Aravis said grudgingly when he had finished.

"You're welcome…oh, Aravis?" he asked as she stood straightening her dress in front of a mirror.

"Yes, Cor?" She picked up a hairbrush and began pulling it through her tousled ebony locks.

"A messenger came and left a letter for you this morning. That's why I came up here in the first place."

She reached for the item he held out and surveyed it with interest. "Is it from Cair Paravel? I don't see the royal seal," she observed.

Cor shook his head. "I think it's from Tashbaan. A Calormene messenger brought it."

Aravis lifted an eyebrow. "A Calormene messenger in Archenland? They haven't made contact since the donkey incident."

Cor grinned. "He seemed to be uncomfortable, to say the least."

"I should think he would be, after the humiliation that was wrought on Rabadash and his army here." Aravis opened the unmarked letter and surveyed the signature at the bottom. Her eyes widened and her brow lifted higher.

"Cor," she said slowly as she lifted her eyes back to the top of the letter and began reading its contents. "Has the messenger left to go back to Calormen yet?"

Cor shook his head and studied her closely. "He's spending the night at Anvard."

"Good," was her absentminded reply. She sat down at a desk, now fully absorbed in the letter.

Cor remained in the room until it was clear that Aravis had forgotten his presence. Then, he exited the room with a shrug.

"I suppose if she wants me to know, she'll eventually tell me what the letter said." He mused as he wandered off to find Corin. Hopefully his twin wouldn't be in a boxing mood…Cor had seen a certain gleam in Corin's eyes that morning.

Cor was right. That night, Aravis very mysteriously summoned Cor and Corin to her chamber. With amusement, Cor observed that the room had been considerably tidied since he had been there that morning. The bed was made, the clothes had been replaced in the wardrobe, the tipped-over chair was upright, and Aravis reclined in a corner on the pile of cushions that had previously been at the foot of her bed.

Corin immediately crossed the room and flopped onto the cushions next to Aravis. As Cor followed suit, Aravis addressed them.

"I'm sure you're both wondering why I've called you here," she said with an important air.

"Oh, I simply assumed that you wanted the real story as to why the crown prince of Archenland showed up at dinner covered in dirt and with his clothes all ripped." Corin stated with a mischievous grin on his face. He winked at his twin.

Cor gritted his teeth and growled, "Not another word, Corin, or I'll-"

"You'll what? Knock me down? I think we've already established the fact that you are unable to do so."

"I was going to say that I'd challenge you to a sparring match in front of the entire royal court. But as for your suggestion, I'm sure that I'd be able to knock you down if Aravis would help me…" Cor looked pleadingly at the girl, who was watching the two of them with an indifferent expression on her face.

Aravis tossed her hair haughtily. "There is absolutely no reason why I should become involved in one of your quarrels."

"Why is that, Aravis?" Corin asked, an evil twinkle in his eyes. "You're constantly arguing with Cor, anyway."

The Tarkheena lifted a delicate eyebrow. "Are you trying to convince me to help Cor knock you down?" She asked, grasping a cushion.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Aravis," said Corin, oblivious to the slightly dangerous edge in Aravis's voice. "But I don't think you're capable knocking me down."

"But surely Cor and I together-"

Corin shook his head and interrupted her. "I'd knock him down first, and then you wouldn't have a chance to get close enough."

With a gleam in her eyes, Aravis clutched the cushion that she was grasping more tightly and said, "I don't need to get close, Corin." Before he had a chance to process what she had said, she lobbed the cushion at him. It hit him solidly in the head. Caught off guard, Corin tumbled backwards off the pile of cushions and onto the floor.

Cor chuckled. "After the egg incident, I'd have thought you would have learned that our dear Tarkheena can throw things with deadly accuracy, Corin."

As Corin regained his seat on the pile of cushions, he retorted, "I haven't had as much opportunity to learn about Aravis's throwing skills as you have, brother. After all, don't you have things thrown at you on a daily basis?"

"Actually, Corin, I haven't thrown anything at him for the past three days," said Aravis.

"Then apparently you've forgotten about the apple yest- oomph!" It was Cor's turn to receive a cushion in the face.

"The apple doesn't count," Aravis said, glaring, as Corin dissolved into snickers and Cor righted himself. "If your catching abilities weren't so awful, you never would have been hit."

"Well, even if the apple didn't count, that cushion just ended your record," Corin remarked.

"And it hit me quite harder than the apple, too," Cor said.

Aravis narrowed her eyes at her companions. "If you two are quite finished having fun at my expense, may I tell you why I called you in here?"

"By all means," said Corin, gesturing for her to continue.

"It's because of this," she said, holding up the letter that Cor had brought to her earlier. "It's from Tashbaan. Specifically, it's from my friend, Lasaraleen Tarkheena."

Cor wrinkled his forehead. "Isn't she the one who helped you to escape Tashbaan?"

"Yes," replied Aravis.

Before she could continue, Corin scrunched up his nose and said in a disgusted tone, "Oh, I remember _her_. She was one of the most self-centered, airheaded, gossipy Tarkheenas there."

Aravis sighed. "I know. But deep down inside, she really isn't that terrible." Corin looked unconvinced, but wisely kept his mouth shut as Aravis continued. "Anyway, she sent me this letter because she thinks I can help someone she knows."

"Who?" asked Corin, intrigued.

"I'm getting to that." Aravis glanced down at the letter. "There's a girl that is about to suffer a similar fate to the one I was able to avoid. Apparently, her parents have betrothed her to some Tarkaan, and she doesn't want to marry him. Las says that this girl heard about my escape to Archenland-"

"Our escape," Cor muttered.

"-and the girl wants to run away like I did, but she has no idea how to do so."

Cor narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What exactly does Lasaraleen think you can do about it?"

She cleared her throat. "Well…"

Growing more suspicious by each second of Aravis's hesitation, he impatiently said, "Out with it, Aravis!"

"She wants me to come to Tashbaan and help her friend escape…" she said sheepishly.

"What?!"

"You heard what I said, Cor. I needn't repeat myself."

No one spoke for a moment as Cor sat tongue-tied and Aravis waited for him to speak. However, Corin soon shattered the uncomfortable silence with a loud exclaimation.

"This will be great!"

Aravis jumped slightly, startled by the outburst. "Whatever do you mean, Corin?" she asked, puzzlement written on her features.

The prince jumped up and waved his arms excitedly. "This is just the sort of thing we need – an adventure. It's been dreadfully dull around here lately…well, aside from you and Cor's quarrels." Aravis and Cor exchanged annoyed glances here. "I say," Corin said suddenly as he stopped swinging his arms. "Do you think we should bring Bree and Hwin? I'm sure they'd love to relive the old days. Of course it wouldn't be exactly the same, since I'd be with you, but still-"

"Corin!"

"What?" he asked, looking at his brother.

"By the Lion's mane, what are you on about?"

"Our trip to Tashbaan, of course. Where have you been the last few minutes?"

"We've been right here, Corin, and I don't think that Cor has any more recollection of a decision to go to Tashbaan than I have." Aravis said matter-of-factly.

Corin cocked his head to the side. "How else are you going to help that girl?"

"Well, I…" her voice trailed off.

"See? You don't know!"

"For goodness sake, Corin. We can't just up and tell Father that we're going to Tashbaan to help some girl that we've never met before and don't know the name of escape from her pending marriage."

"Who said anything about telling him?" Corin asked with a gleam in his eye.

Aravis drew herself up straight and tall. "For shame, Corin. Can you not see what a scandal that would be? The two princes of Archenland and the resident Tarkheena sneaking off to Calormen!"

"Who cares about how scandalous it would be, Aravis? That girl needs help!"

"I know," she said, then cast her eyes downward and intently studied the hem of her dress. "That's why _I'm_ going to Tashbaan."

"_What,_ Aravis? You can't go to Tashbaan alone! If you're so worried about creating a scandal, how about one where a young girl under the protection of the king runs off by herself to Calormen?"

"Besides, you might be recognized by anyone in Tashbaan." Cor pointed out. " Why, you could find yourself right back in the same place you were before we escaped. They could force you to marry Ahoshta, and there'd be no getting out of it. There'd be no Hwin to carry you off to Archenland, Aravis."

"I'm willing to take that risk, Cor." Aravis stated stubbornly. "I remember how I felt when I was in the same position as Lasaraleen's friend. I want to help."

"Then I'm going with you. Don't try to stop me," he warned. "I'll tell Father everything if you do!"

"Oh, that's low, Cor," she paused for a moment, seeming to mull things over. "Very well, you may come. It will be an easier journey with a companion, anyway."

"Then it's settled!" Corin exclaimed. "We'll leave for Tashbaan tomorrow night!"

Aravis and Cor stared at him. "What makes you think _you're_ coming?" Cor asked.

Corin crossed his arms smugly. "Because I have just as much power to tell Father about this as you do. There is no way I'm missing out on this. Besides, you may need my fists."

Cor groaned. "The last thing we need is you getting into some scrape in Tashbaan!"

Aravis put a hand on his arm. "We don't have any choice. Corin, you may come, but you're going to have to follow any rules I make. Rule number one: there will be absolutely _no_ boxing on this venture!"

"What! You may as well tell me to stop breathing!"

"I mean it, Corin," she said sternly. "_No boxing!_"

"Fine." Then his countenance brightened considerably. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he said, "There are other ways of knocking a person down – like when you snag his tunic on his horse's saddle before he mounts. Right, Cor?"

"Oh, that does it!" Cor sprang at his twin, intent on pinning him to the ground.

Corin laughed maniacally and scrambled out of Cor's reach. Cor lost his balance and fell face-first to the ground. Meanwhile, Corin jumped up on Aravis's bed and bounced around like a little child, chanting in a sing-song voice, "You can't catch me!"

"Would you two stop acting like children?" asked Aravis, exasperated. "Honestly…oh!" she gasped as Cor grabbed his brother's ankle and yanked it. Corin landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor, while it was Cor's turn to laugh madly. Soon, the chase began again, this time with Cor on the run. However, it didn't last long, for the two boys had to stop rather abruptly when Aravis deliberately planted herself in their path.

"_Don't_ touch him, Corin!" she barked fiercely as the prince lifted a foot to trip his brother. Needless to say, he immediately set his foot down and stood at attention.

"Now, I have just one thing to say to the both of you," she paused, then allowed herself a small smirk. And before either prince knew what was happening, Aravis walloped both of them with two cushions that she held. Then, she smiled innocently at her astonished companions. "We have plans to make," she stated, then, her head held high and her back ramrod straight, she fluidly strode back to the pile of cushions in the corner.

Cor and Corin stared at her for a moment, then glanced briefly at each other before shrugging and following the Tarkheena. There was, after all, a great adventure ahead of them.

Three days later, in Tashbaan, Lasaraleen Tarkheena was in the process of choosing a gown for the night's party when her messenger returned. He handed her a letter, then bowed and backed out of the room. With interest, Lasaraleen quickly broke the seal and scanned the three words that it contained.

_We are coming._


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh, it feels so great to update this story so soon! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Did Lasaraleen say anything else in her letter?" Cor asked Aravis when they were all settled on the pile of cushions once more.

"Well," she said; a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Las said she'd gotten an '_absolutely gorgeous_' new dress, described several parties, and told me that if I came, she would be sure to try and find a suitable _young_ husband for me, since that was surely why I wasn't satisfied with Ahoshta."

Cor nearly choked and went into a coughing fit while Corin laughed hysterically. "Why would we need to know that?" Cor asked when he had recovered.

Aravis lifted her eyebrows innocently. "You asked if the letter said anything else,"

"I meant if it said anything _helpful_."

"Well, then, why didn't you say so?"

"You knew full well what I meant, Aravis."

"How would you know if I knew? Have you begun to read minds?"

"No, I thought you would be smart enough to figure it out."

"Are you now implying that I'm not smart?"

"No, I was simply stating that you always know what I mean."

"Unlike you, Cor, I am unable to read minds."

"I can't read your mind!" he huffed.

"Then how did you know that I knew?"

"Ha!" he said, pointing his finger at her. "You did know!"

"I thought you already knew that."

"What?" he asked with a befuddled look on his face.

Corin, who had barely been able to contain his mirth during this entire exchange, couldn't help but laugh at his brother's facial expression.

"What are you laughing at?" Cor snapped.

"You," Corin said between chuckles.

"It wouldn't seem half as funny to you if you were the one whose mind had been twisted in knots."

"You're probably right," Corin agreed, but a smirk still turned up the corners of his mouth.

Cor crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, feeling annoyed with both of his companions. "May we get on with our plans now?"

"Of course," said Aravis.

The three discussed their plans for nearly two hours. In the end, among other things, they decided that they wouldn't bring Bree and Hwin because the time that it would take to go find them in Narnia would delay their departure for several days. Also, Cor had pointed out that the Talking Horses would most likely draw too much attention in Calormen, and Bree and Hwin probably wouldn't want to go back to the land of their captivity, anyway. A few ordinary horses would do just fine for the mission.

* * *

The next day, the Anvard castle staff was confused by the strange behavior of the two princes and the Tarkheena. To begin the strangeness, young Prince Corin was absent at breakfast. The prince was almost never late to the first meal of the day, and one of the maids overheard him inform King Lune later that he had overslept.

"Why, the prince hasn't overslept in years!" the maid exclaimed to the head cook while helping prepare the noon meal. "And breakfast most certainly is not served early."

"Perhaps he snuck out last night to meet someone," the cook responded with a knowing look.

The maid gasped dramatically. "You don't think he's met a girl, do you?"

While the cook and that maid discussed Prince Corin's possible late night rendezvous, a different maid found herself denied entrance to Aravis Tarkheena's bedchamber upstairs.

"Your services won't be necessary today," Aravis informed her, then shut the door firmly.

The maid stood open-mouthed in the hallway, a pile of clean linens in her arms and a feather duster dangling from her fingers. "But Miss Aravis, I always touch up your room in the morning!" she called through the door.

"Not today!" came the faint reply through the door. "And you can tell Marietta that my floors don't need scrubbing, either!"

That afternoon, Prince Cor entered the kitchen and carried a large basket into one of the several pantries. He was cloistered inside for quite a while, and when he exited, the basket was clearly packed full and its contents were hidden from view by a large cloth that looked suspiciously like one of the Tarkheena's silken head scarves. When the prince had vacated the kitchen, the head cook nonchalantly peeked into the pantry and noticed that several of her fresh loaves of bread were gone, as well as a couple of cheeses and a pouch of tea. Knowing that those items couldn't account for the rest of the bulk in the prince's basket, she entered the pantry and opened the attached cellar door. After inspecting the cellar, she discovered that a small sack of potatoes, a bunch of large carrots, and several sausages were also gone.

"Not exactly ordinary picnic food!" she remarked to a nearby kitchen helper. "Oh, have you seen my small tea kettle?"

* * *

That night, when nearly all of Anvard was asleep, Cor and Corin silently slid from their beds and snuck across the castle to Aravis's bedchamber. After glancing in each direction down the corridor, Cor tapped lightly on the door and it opened almost instantly. Aravis beckoned them both in and then shut the door carefully.

"Did anyone see you?" she asked quietly when the door's latch was securely fastened.

"Not to our knowledge," Corin replied.

Aravis nodded, satisfied, and then crossed the room to a large pile of items that was concealed by the covering for her bed. She yanked the covering off, revealing several saddlebags, a large bundle, and a stack of clothes. She tossed the clothes to the princes.

"Change into these. I've already put mine on," she said, motioning to her attire.

The twins went into the spacious washroom that adjoined the bedchamber, shut the door, and then emerged several minutes later sporting their new clothes.

"You took long enough," Aravis commented.

Cor snickered. "Corin had as much trouble figuring out the turban as you have with your dresses."

"It's not my fault I wasn't raised in Calormene clothes!" Corin protested.

"Same problem, same excuse." Cor remarked. "You two ought to be the twins!"

Aravis rolled her eyes while Corin let out a huff. "All right, down to business," Aravis took charge. "I've already packed the food and other things in the saddlebags and this bundle. We just need to get them down to the stable without being seen. Corin, did you get the water?"

"I hid the bottles under a haystack."

"Good, then everything's been taken care of."

Cor spoke up. "You gave the messenger the note for Lasaraleen before he left, correct?"

"Of course I gave him the note," she replied indignantly. "I said that everything's been taken care of, didn't I?"

"I was just making sure. It never hurts to double check."

Corin motioned to the door and interrupted the beginnings of a quarrel as Aravis crossed her arms and opened her mouth to make a snide remark to Cor. "Let's go before someone hears you two," he said, lifting the large bundle with some effort. "Cor, get those saddlebags, will you?"

Aravis snatched one set of saddlebags from the floor and swept out of the room with her head held high. Cor rolled his eyes and picked up the two remaining sets of saddlebags, following her as Corin held the door.

Five minutes later, they were entering the stables and saddling their horses. The saddlebags and skin bottles of water were divided between the three riding horses, and the large bundle was securely fastened to a fourth. Then, the three youths quietly slipped from the stables, leading the horses by their halters.

Layers of cloth had been fastened to the horses' hooves to muffle their steps, and there was only slight _thud, thud_ sound as they crossed the courtyard to a small, well disguised door in the castle wall. Corin slipped a large key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. The lock yielded with an audible _click_, and he pushed the door open. Aravis and Cor passed through the open doorway with the horses, and Corin followed, closing the door behind them. It let out a loud, protesting _creak_, and the three humans held their breaths for a moment, fearing detection by one of the few sentries that they knew patrolled the Anvard walls by night. When all remained quiet, they let out sighs of relief and Corin locked the door.

There was no moon that night, but the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly, gently lighting the way as the four horses and their three riders silently turned their steps toward the border of Archenland.

"We should cross the Winding Arrow before dawn this morning," Aravis informed the princes softly when they had left Anvard behind. "And if all goes well, I hope to reach the walls of Tashbaan by midday tomorrow."

No one had anything to say after that, so it was just the sound of creaking saddles, thudding hooves, and an occasional snort from a horse that heralded their journey through the night. The twinkling stars shone, a soft breeze blew, and Archenland slept as three of its inhabitants made their way towards the border and onward to the adventure that awaited them.

* * *

Miles away, in Calormen, a small, slender figure slipped softly into a large, lavish room that was lit by many candles and perfumed by smoky incense. Her robes were rumpled and untidy as though they had been hastily thrown on, and her silky sheer headscarf was askew. She lightly crossed the room to a cushioned chair on a raised platform and curtseyed to the man that sat there.

"Ah, I see you have finally come," he spoke with a hint of annoyance.

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes, I came as quickly as I could. It is, after all, the middle of the night."

"So it is," he replied, and lazily brought a jeweled goblet to his lips. Then, without warning, he set it down with a loud crash on a small table and half-rose from his seat. "Is there anything you feel necessary to reveal to me?"

The girl flinched at his sudden movement, but her voice didn't quaver as she said, "I know not of what you speak."

"Do not play your silly games with me tonight, O my daughter. One of my most trusted slaves has reported to me activities of yours that are, for lack of a better term, _suspicious_." He leaned closer to her face as she stood as motionless and expressionless as stone. "If I hear of them again, you can be certain that action will be taken. You have begged for some time to lapse before your marriage, and I did consent, though you are already several years past the acceptable age for a girl of your rank to marry. However, I am quite sure that your betrothed will not hesitate to marry you sooner, if I should happen to change my mind."

The girl's face went noticeably pale, and her father knew that his words had taken the desired effect. "O my father, I give my word that I will not soon engage in those activities again."

The man leaned back in his chair, satisfied with her response. "Very well. And now, O my daughter and O the somewhat-dimmed-light-of-my-eyes, return to your bed."

Dismissed, the girl curtseyed again before turning and exiting the room as silently and gracefully as she had entered it. Her face remained emotionless until she had navigated through her father's sprawling house and was securely tucked back in her bed. Only then did she allow herself the luxury of emotion unhindered, and by morning her pillow was soaked with her silent tears. One thought echoed through her mind over and over.

_Oh, please come soon!_

* * *

**So...what did you think? Did the Calormene conversation seem all right? I'm not very sure about it...**

**Oh, and many thanks to my kind reviewers! Your comments brought big smiles to my face and made me dance for joy inside. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yikes, I'm sorry it took a while to update. Anyway, here ya go. :)**

* * *

"I'm not looking forward to this in the least bit," Corin announced.

Aravis and Cor couldn't help but agree with him. They had just emerged from the stony valley by which Cor, Aravis, and the Horses had originally entered Archenland, and the whole desert now stretched out before them. Heat from the sun (which had been up for several hours) radiated from the coarse sand and the humans shaded their eyes from the blinding glare of the desolate wasteland.

"I'd nearly forgotten how awful this part of the journey would be," remarked Cor.

"Even so, there's no getting to Tashbaan except across the desert. It's too late to turn back and go by ship," said Aravis. The boys nodded in agreement as they sat on their mounts and stared at the wide, harsh expanse before them. No one wanted to be the first to step foot into the desert.

"I should have brought a hat."

"You have a turban, Corin," said Aravis.

"It's too hot, and I don't want to go digging for it in the bundle. I put it in there earlier."

"A hat probably wouldn't help much anyway, Corin. The light would reflect up into your face from the sand," said Cor matter-of-factly.

"I wasn't thinking of shading my eyes. My head and face are going to burn. Yours probably will, too."

"But I never burned when I lived in Calormen,"

"Your complexion is much lighter now, Cor," Aravis pointed out. "And since the two of you are twins, it's very likely that if one of you burns, the other will also."

Cor grimaced. "Lovely."

"I think I have a couple of extra head scarves you could wear, though." Aravis dismounted and reached into one of her saddlebags. She pulled out two wads of material and tossed them to Cor. "Here, put them on."

Cor selected one of the scarves and handed the other to Corin, who protested. "I'm not wearing that!" he exclaimed.

Aravis raised an eyebrow. "It's either that or you burn."

"It's _pink_!"

"No one's going to see you out here."

"Cor, trade with me." Corin held out the offending pink length of filmy material.

Cor looked at Corin's headscarf with disgust. "Why on earth would I want to do that? I chose this one for a reason. How does it go on, Aravis?" Having already removed his turban, he wrapped the royal blue scarf around his head in its place.

With a growl, Corin moved his horse closer to Cor's in an attempt to snatch the scarf from his twin's head, but Cor maneuvered his own mount out of the way and left Corin grasping at air.

"Corin, stop. You're acting like a little child." said Aravis as she motioned for Cor to dismount. When he had done so, she pulled loose one of the ends of the blue scarf and wrapped it over his nose and mouth before tucking it back into place. "There. That's the best I can do. Your turn, Corin."

"I am _not_ wearing this pink thing," he said obstinately, but he dismounted anyway.

"You can wear my green one, then." Aravis pulled off the scarf on her own head and flung it over his before he had a chance to duck away. In a few quick motions, she formed the sheer green headscarf into another turban and wrapped its end over his nose and mouth. It was only then that Corin jerked away, leaving the scarf in Aravis's hand.

"Corin!" she scolded. "You've ruined my work."

"That scarf smells like perfume!"

"What did you expect? I've been wearing it."

"I am _not_ going to smell like perfume."

Cor snickered from where he sat on his horse. "I'm sure it would be an improvement."

Corin glared at him. "Shut up."

"Corin, you are wasting precious time," Aravis warned. "Now, you have three options. You can either burn as we cross the desert, smell like perfume, or, if neither of those choices appeals to you, you can wear the pink scarf." She waved it in front of his face.

After much grumbling, Corin finally stood still long enough for Aravis to fasten a scarf-turban to his head. Then, when Aravis had donned the other scarf, the two re-mounted their horses and turned them to the south.

"We'll do this the way we did it before, the way Bree taught us." Cor announced, taking charge. "Brisk trots and short walks."

And so the journey to Tashbaan continued. Seven living beings began their long passage across the desert: four horses, a Tarkheena, a crown prince, and another prince…one in a pink turban.

* * *

"You, slave! Come here!" Lasaraleen Tarkheena barked as she entered her bedchamber in a flurry of silks and perfume.

Startled, a middle-aged Calormene woman jumped slightly at the abrupt and loud command, but once recovered she hurried over to her young mistress. Bowing deeply, she said, "Yes, my mistress."

"I am expecting guests very soon. Prepare the east wing quarters for them."

The slave looked up, surprised. "When will the guests arrive?"

"I am not completely certain, but they may be here as soon as this afternoon. Have the rooms ready by then."

"O my mistress, the east wing guest chambers need at least an entire day to be properly made up for occupants."

"I'm sure I don't know a thing about how to make up a room properly, but I do know that I told you to have those chambers prepared for guests."

The slave bowed her head. "It shall be done. How many guests are you expecting?"

"Oh, two or three. Certainly not more than five or six, I should think."

"You…don't know how many?" The woman gave the Tarkheena a strange look in spite of herself.

"I don't know the exact number," Lasaraleen tossed her head and turned to leave. "Oh, and tell no one about the guests, or you and whomever you tell shall be first hanged to death and then stoned within an inch of your lives and then have no new clothes for five months. There." Then she swept out of the room in as dramatic an exit as her entrance had been.

"Yes, O my mistress," the slave said to the slightly perfumed air left in the Tarkheena's wake. Then, she turned back to making the bed, shaking her head at the airheaded Lasaraleen and her ridiculous threats.

* * *

"Ouch!"

"Corin, what's wrong?"

"I've burnt myself, that's what."

The travelers had successfully completed their journey across the desert. There wasn't much to say about it, except that it had been hot, bright, and full of sand. Now, it was the afternoon of the next day, and they were in the midst of the Tombs of the Ancient Kings. All three humans were exhausted. Though they had been riding their horses for the duration of the journey, none of them had experienced any real sleep for the past two nights and the sun seemed to suck their strength right from them. It had been Cor who suggested that they stop and rest at the Tombs before entering Tashbaan, and the others had agreed almost immediately.

"It's your own fault for taking off the scarf." Aravis sat on the ground next to Corin and examined his face. "By the Lion, Corin. You certainly have done an excellent job of it. I don't think you could have gotten any redder if you'd fallen into one of those kettles of dye that the weavers use back at Anvard."

Corin didn't have a retort to make. He was in too much pain. His face and neck felt like they were on fire. "Please don't tease me, Aravis," he begged. "I feel awful."

"You weren't complaining about this earlier," said Cor. "Why did you suddenly start hurting?"

"Sunburn is funny that way," said Aravis. "Sometimes you don't notice you have it until you touch the area that is affected."

"Well, I know it's there now." Corin groaned and leaned his head back against a Tomb. "Ouch!" Amidst Cor's amused chuckles, Corin jerked his head back up and gingerly touched his scalp. "I'm even burnt under my hair!"

"I suppose you'll have to sleep sitting up tonight, then."

With a glare, Corin said, "That's not funny, Cor."

"Or perhaps you could just hang your head off the bed. The blood would rush to it, but you're already red, so that wouldn't matter much."

"Bother you!"

"Oh, I've just thought of something!" Aravis suddenly exclaimed, making both boys' heads snap towards her. "What are we going to do about names?"

"Names for what?" Cor asked.

"Your names are perfectly fine in Archenland, but I don't know of any Calormenes with the names 'Cor' and 'Corin'. You two will stick out like sore thumbs, even with disguises."

"I can just be 'Shasta' again," Cor mused. "What about you, Corin?"

"Just pick something," he replied, still annoyed with his twin. "I wouldn't have the slightest idea of what name to choose."

Aravis thought for a moment. "How about 'Guban'?"

Corin appeared skeptical. "I'm not sure. What does it mean?"

Aravis grinned and replied, "Burnt." Cor howled with laughter and Corin glared. "All right, Corin, if you don't like that name, what about 'Admon'?" she asked, a sly look in her eyes.

"It sounds better, but what does it mean?" he asked apprehensively.

There was a pause, and then, with a snort of barely controlled laughter, the answer came: "Red."

Over his companions' peals of laughter, Corin yelled, "You can make fun of me all you want, just remember that the only reasons I haven't knocked the two of you down by now are because Aravis is a girl…and my hands are burnt, too."

* * *

Beyond the gates and walls of Tashbaan, another message arrived at the home of Lasaraleen Tarkheena, borne by a messenger with whom the Tarkheena had recently become familiar.

"Oh, Barid, are you here again so soon?" she exclaimed as she accepted the letter from him.

Barid nodded. "I was told to inform you that this letter is to be the last."

"Oh, I wasn't expecting any more anyway," Lasaraleen waved a dismissive hand. "I sent my own letter to my dear misguided friend Aravis – you do remember her, right? Yes, I thought so – and I got a message back saying that she was coming. She is such a darling, I never doubted for a moment that she wouldn't help. Oh, and it sounds as though she's bringing others to aid in the cause. Won't that be _absolutely_ wonderful? And of course, I'm certain that this will be a chance for me to ease my conscience…I never did feel completely right about letting her run off to the North, and now an opportunity to redeem myself has come! I feel from the tone of her message that the ways of the barbarians have rubbed off on her. Why, she didn't say a word about my new dress that I described to her, and there wasn't a _hint_ of gossip to be found! But all is not lost. You wouldn't believe how many handsome, eligible young Tarkaans are in Tashbaan at this very moment, and all I need to do is find the right one to sweep her off of her feet–" she was interrupted from her monologue by Barid, who cleared his throat loudly. In truth, Lasaraleen had nearly forgotten he was there. "Yes?"

"In all truth, Tarkheena, I do not think that there will be time for you to find a husband for Aravis, if that is what you intend. Perhaps you should read that letter now?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Lasaraleen. Barid stood patiently as she unfolded the letter and perused its few lines. Then, she jerked her head up. "Her father threatened to go back on his word?"

Barid nodded. "Yes, but regardless, the wedding is still approaching quickly. The Tarkheena will be married in three months if she does not escape to the North."

"Oh, you needn't worry about _that_, darling. Aravis should be here very soon." Lasaraleen leaned back lazily in her chair and tossed the letter to a small ornamental table nearby. "Now, would you like something for refreshment? It's such a _long_ day's ride from your home. I'm sure you must be _absolutely_ exhausted."

Barid ignored her offer. "Are you completely certain that your friend will be able to assist in this matter? Perhaps you should have sent for more…experienced help."

"It's the best I could do on short notice, darling. And I'll have you remember that Aravis escaped to the North herself several years back. You can't get much more experienced than _that._ And besides," the Tarkheena sat up straighter and tossed her hair. "_I_ will help, too. I aided Aravis in her escape, you know."

"So I've heard,"

"Now, as I was saying earlier, would you like something to eat or drink? It is dreadfully hot today, and my servants can make the most delightful iced drinks and things. Why, just yesterday I–"

"That won't be necessary," Barid interrupted, growing weary with Lasaraleen's constant chatter. "Is there a message you would like delivered to the Tarkheena? I need to get back."

"Oh, so soon, darling? You've only just arrived, and there is to be another wonderful party tonight. You could come with me, I'm sure the hosts wouldn't mind."

"I feel it best that I be on hand should the Tarkheena need me."

Lasaraleen sighed. "Oh, I suppose you're probably correct. Still, you mustn't work yourself to the bone. You're entering the prime of your life, darling. If you don't take the time to enjoy it, it will soon slip past you and you will be an old man. Think about it, Barid. It's not _nice_."

Barid's tone of voice became hard as he delivered his next line. "Right now I am far more concerned with my lady's happiness and future than I am about finding shallow pleasure in the extravagant and self-centered lifestyle of the wealthy and elevated of society."

He turned on his heel and strode quickly to the door, and his voice returned to an almost normal tone as he turned back for a moment and said, "And with all due respect, Lasaraleen, you have no right to tell me how I should live my life." He bowed slightly and stiffly. "I'll give the Tarkheena your regards."

Lasaraleen stared after him for a moment, unused to having the usually easygoing messenger nearly snap at her. Then, she shrugged, leaned back in her chair once more, and muttered, "Farewell to you, too, cousin."

* * *

**Okay, tell me what you think. I'm not very sure I characterized Lasaraleen correctly, and I'm kinda unsure about the Calormene dialogue. The truth is, there's not really anything in the book that would indicate how slave/owner conversations would go (excluding Shasta and Arsheesh; I don't think Las would treat her slaves the same way Arsheesh treated Shasta), or cousin/cousin either. I could use some help if anyone is willing! :)**

**And, as always, a BIG THANK YOU to those who have reviewed and favorited this story so far. "Favorites are brighter than a beam of sunshine and reviews more beautiful than a sunset." Or something like that. ;D Which brings me to another item of business...**

**If anyone would like to pm me and submit any Calormene "poetic quotes", it'd be pretty nice. This story is lacking in them so far, and I'd like to have some in the future, considering the fact that much of the cast in this fic is Calormene. You know how the Calormenes are quoting the poets all the time... Anyway, it's just a thought. Oh, and I could use some names, too. Especially for my Tarkheena's betrothed. I can't seem to find a name that works...maybe one of you can! If you'd like to make a suggestion, please pm me with it. I could really use some aid in that department! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, ladies and gentlemen, you all have my sincerest apologies for taking so long to update. I'm not going to make any excuses for my procrastination. However, on the plus side, this chapter is nearly twice as long as the previous ones! :)**

**Also, credit and my utmost gratitude go to _RasberryParfait_ for my Tarkaan's name. :)**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"Ow! That hurts!" cried a strained voice.

"Let go of my ear!" yelled another, nearly identical to the first.

"This will teach you, ruffians!" a third voice, thick and gruff, growled.

"If you would just let us explain- ow!"

A fourth voice spoke up, strong, clear, and decidedly female. "If you don't unhand us this instant, you two buffoons are going to be very sorry."

A coarse guffaw echoed in the hall. "You are in no position to be threatening us, little missy. The master and mistress of this household will not be pleased to learn that you three have made multiple attempts to break in."

The fourth voice grew indignant. "I'll have you know that we first went to the front gate and asked for an audience with the mistress of this house. We were denied that privilege, and we had to resort to a more unseemly method of entrance. We are not common criminals or fools that would break and enter for the fun of it."

A chuckle sounded from yet another person. "I'll say you're not common. I've never seen a boy so red in my life."

"I'll show you red!" yelled the second voice, and then a scuffle ensued as he broke free and his captor tried to get him back under control.

"What is going on out there?" called Lasaraleen, unable to contain her curiosity any longer at what was occurring in the hallway outside of the room she occupied.

A large, burly guard poked his head through the silk curtains that served as a door to the room. "Oh, nothing, O my mistress. Just some impudent street rats that insist that they need an audience with you." An exclamation of indignation came from the hallway at this statement, followed by the smack of flesh connecting solidly with flesh and a yelp of pain.

Then, Lasaraleen heard a gasp and someone said, "Is Lasaraleen in there?"

"Disrespectful waif!" growled an unseen guard. "Dare you to speak of the Tarkheena in such a familiar fashion?"

"Yes, I do!" This remark was followed by a squeal of pain.

"Stop! You're hurting her!"

The guard withdrew his head from the room, but Lasaraleen could hear him as he said, "That's the point, boy."

"Guards! Bring your prisoners in here!" Lasaraleen called. "I wish to see them."

The Tarkheena stretched into a reclining position on her couch as the guards complied with her wishes. Three guards entered the room; one with a flustered teenage boy, another with a struggling boy nearly identical to the first, and the third with a girl whose hair was securely clenched in one of his meaty fists. Lasaraleen squinted at the girl, scrutinizing her carefully, and then ordered the guard to release her.

"Thank you," the girl said as she rubbed her scalp and glared at the guard. Then her eyes went to Lasaraleen, and they widened as she saw the Tarkheena taking a deep breath with an excited expression on her face.

"Ara- mmphhh!" Lasaraleen was cut off from her loud exclamation as Aravis sprang at her and slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Shh!" Aravis hissed as she slowly pulled her hand away. "Do you want all of Tashbaan to learn that we've arrived?"

"I'm sorry, darling," said Lasaraleen as she rose from her seat and waved off the guards.

"I would have thought you'd have learned by now," Aravis muttered under her breath as Lasaraleen dismissed the guards and motioned for Aravis and the boys to follow her through a door to an adjoining room. Aravis recognized it as the same room that she and Lasaraleen had dined in as they had made their plans for Aravis's escape to Archenland. Same room, same pillars…there was a chattering noise across the room, and Lasaraleen made kissing sounds to the creature that hung from one of the pillars. "Same monkey," Aravis sighed.

"Oh yes, you've met my little pet before, haven't you, darling?"

Aravis forced a smile as the monkey jumped down onto Lasaraleen's shoulder and screeched loudly at the visitors. "Yes, I have."

"It's awfully loud. Haven't you taught it any manners?"

"Corin!" Aravis gasped, though she privately shared his opinion. "I had been hoping you'd remember yours!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought we were using false names,"

"We are, but I don't find it necessary to do so here. Lasaraleen is a friend."

"Of course," put in Cor. "If you prefer it, we can call you by your Calormene name."

"Would you like that, _Banji_?" said Aravis scathingly.

Corin coughed. "Um, no. My real name is fine."

"Speaking of names, Aravis darling, why don't you introduce me to your friends. I'm absolutely _dying_ to properly meet them,"

"Oh, right. Lasaraleen, this is Corin and his twin, Cor. Cor and Corin, Lasaraleen."

"Nice to meet you, I'm sure," said Cor, deciding to play the part of a gentleman and stepping forward to kiss the Tarkheena's hand.

Corin folded his arms and said, "We've already met."

Lasaraleen looked at him quizzically. "Whatever do you mean, darling?"

"I was with the company from Narnia that was here in Tashbaan several years back."

"You were? Well, I suppose I can't be blamed if I don't remember a slave. There are so many of them here in Tashbaan."

"I'm not a slave!" exclaimed Corin, indignant.

"If the two of you aren't slaves, then what are you? For surely Aravis wouldn't have had time to find two companions here in Tashbaan before she came to my house,"

Aravis sighed. "Well, at least we know the disguises are working. Las, Cor and Corin are my friends from Archenland."

"Aravis, what have I told you about traveling with common boys? It isn't nice."

"Funny you should mention that. Cor is the 'common boy' with whom I ran away to Archenland."

"Really?" Lasaraleen stared at Cor with interest as he shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Aravis dear, at least you have good taste. They may be common, but they are certainly not difficult on the eyes. Although the reddish color on that one is a bit distracting…"

Aravis and Cor turned nearly as red as Corin. "Las," Aravis said after clearing her throat. "You need to stop referring to them as common. They are actually higher in rank than even I was when I lived with my father. They're-"

She was cut off by Cor. "Aravis are you certain that it's wise to tell her who we are?"

Lasaraleen put her hands on her hips. "Are you implying that I can't keep a secret? Well, I'll have you know that haven't told anyone about my part in helping Aravis run away – except for Barid, of course, and perhaps a couple of others. Go on, Aravis, tell me. I'm absolutely _dying_ to know."

"We're the princes of Archenland," said Corin, rolling his eyes.

Lasaraleen gasped loudly and leaned forward. "No!"

Aravis sighed. "Yes, Lasaraleen, it's true."

As Lasaraleen gushed to Aravis over this revelation, Cor pulled Corin aside and whispered fiercely, "What are you thinking?!"

"I'm thinking that Lasaraleen should spend less time talking and more time trying to make her guests comfortable. For goodness sake, we've been here for nearly half an hour and not even a word about a decent bite to eat! Does she think we've been able to ingest even one normal three course meal while we've been busy rushing across the desert and getting chased by thick-headed guards?"

Cor glared at his twin. "You know what I meant when I asked the question."

"You asked what I was thinking," Corin said with a shrug.

After a short period of time in which he did quite a bit of huffing, Cor growled, "Just let Aravis do the talking next time."

"She was going to say the same thing!"

"Perhaps, but it seemed to me that she was reconsidering. And besides, she knows far more about the Calormene ways than you do, and is more knowledgeable about Calormene nobles than I am, and has known Lasaraleen far longer than either of us."

The conversation probably would have gone longer, but at this point, Aravis finally had her fill of Lasaraleen's mindless chatter about certain handsome princes and bluntly asked the Tarkheena to tell the three of them more about their mission.

Lasaraleen giggled. "Oh, darling, I nearly forgot! How silly of me! Speaking of which, two weeks ago – oh, Aravis, you really must listen, it's frightfully funny – I was at a party and-"

"Las!"

"Oh, right. There I go again!" Lasaraleen giggled for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes.

"Just get on with it!" Aravis snapped, then, abruptly changing her tone of voice, added, "Please?"

"Oh, of course, darling. It's quite simple, really. My friend is in nearly the same situation you were in, except for the fact that she isn't engaged to the Ahoshta Tarkaan. We're not certain, but we think – or _I_ think, anyway – that the Tisroc himself (may he live forever!) first proposed the idea for this marriage. I have it from a very reliable source. Actually, my friend is nearly an old maid, so I suppose her father thinks the Tisroc (may he live forever!) has done the family a favor. I can't see why, for though my friend's betrothed is a high-ranking Tarkaan, his family has not been noble for longer than two generations, and he only recently gained the elevated favor of the Tisroc (may he live forever!). She, on the other hand, is from a long line of noble blood. Oh, it's all simply dreadful!"

Aravis raised an eyebrow. "Las, you do realize that it sounds as though this Tarkaan has a more long-standing position than Ahoshta had, and you didn't have a problem with my engagement. How is this one any different?"

"Ahoshta was merely a sniveling fool. Deshan Tarkaan is an arrogant, cruel, condescending excuse for a man, and I wouldn't wish him upon anyone!"

"It sounds as though you don't like him," remarked Aravis wryly.

Lasaraleen sniffed and tossed her hair. "Of course I don't like him, darling. Who would?"

"Perhaps your friend's father and the Tisroc?"

"May he live forever!" Lasaraleen added for Aravis. "Trust me, Aravis darling, Deshan is perfectly awful."

"All right, Las. Now, I feel it necessary to ask you for your friend's name."

Another giggle escaped the Tarkheena. "Oh, darling, how silly of me to forget! You must forgive me, for you see, this whole matter is simply so exciting that I'm nearly beside myself with, well, excitement!" Here, she giggled again. "Her name is Anaya Tarkheena. Her father is Iresh Tarkaan, and her mother died of a broken heart when her only brother was killed in the western wars. Her father hasn't remarried, and it isn't likely that he will."

Aravis tilted her head to the side. "Their names seem familiar to me."

"Of course they do, darling. Iresh is lord of the province Norovar."

As her eyes widened, Aravis's face grew noticeably pale and she took several deep breaths.

"What's wrong, Aravis?" Cor asked, worried. "Are you all right?"

She moistened her lips and swallowed before answering in a weak voice. "Norovar is the twin province of Calavar, my old home and the domain of my father."

"So?" asked Corin.

"So, it lies to the south of Calavar, Corin. In order to reach it, we must pass right through the center of Calavar."

"Oh," said the twins in unison.

"Yes," said Aravis. "Lasaraleen, you might have told me this sooner!"

"I didn't realize it would make a difference," responded the Tarkheena, shrugging. "And honestly, I'd forgotten that you'd have to go by way of Calavar."

"Perhaps we don't have to," said Cor. "Isn't there another way?"

"We could go around," Aravis mused. "If we went east, to the sea, we could take a ship past Calavar to Norovar."

Lasaraleen shook her head emphatically. "No, no. That wouldn't do, darling. Time is running out."

"Exactly how much time do we have?" asked Cor, somewhat hesitantly.

"Less than three months."

"Surely that would be plenty of time to reach Anaya before the wedding,"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Why not?"

Aravis sighed. "Las is right, Cor. We'd have to backtrack a considerable distance north and west in order to reach the palace of Iresh Tarkaan. Precious time would be lost."

"Three months' worth?!"

"This isn't Archenland, Cor. The Calormene Empire is enormous. And there are factors to consider other than traveling time. If the weather was good for the entire journey, and we had no other delays, we could reach the palace in about one-and-a-half months, give or take a week or so. By then, we would have a very small window of time to aid Anaya in her escape, but if we had so much as one delay, it would be closed. If Iresh still holds to tradition as much as he used to, there will be wedding guests arriving as soon as three or four weeks in advance of the ceremony. The more people there are, the more likely Anaya's escape will be prematurely discovered."

"Why couldn't we get a ship to land just south of Calavar's border?" asked Corin. "Then we'd only have to backtrack to the west."

"The northernmost port in Norovar is nearly one hundred-and-fifty miles south of the border, and it would be out of the question to have a captain drop us off on the coast."

"Then why not go around Calavar to the west?"

"Trust me darling, it doesn't take the daughter of the lord of Calavar to tell you that it extends for hundreds of miles in that direction," put in Lasaraleen, eager to be back in the conversation. "And as for the first idea, it would never work this time of year anyway. Only the bravest of captains would take a ship south this time of year."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Aravis dejectedly.

"Don't worry, darling. You can't be blamed. After all, one wouldn't expect you to remember things like that when you'd been living in the accursed land of the barbarians for several years." Lasaraleen patted Aravis's hand in sympathy.

"Well then, O great and wise Tarkheena, why don't you enlighten us poor barbarians with a Calormene gem of advice?" Corin asked, his impatience with Lasaraleen spilling over into his sarcastic words, and earning a warning look from Aravis and a sigh from Cor.

Not catching Corin's facetiousness, Lasaraleen tossed her hair and immediately said, "Well, darling, the most direct route is most obviously through Calavar, and that is the one you must take. You will get to Anaya in time, and I will be able to take Aravis to several parties before you leave."

"Las, I can't go to any parties with you."

"Yes, you can. With me, you can go nearly anywhere."

"Do you _want_ me to be returned to my father? I would most assuredly be recognized should I appear in public."

Lasaraleen waved a hand, unconcerned. "Oh, darling, there's no fear of that. You've changed and grown so much since you ran away. Even your own father wouldn't recognize you!"

"I beg to differ. _You_ recognized me!"

"Aravis darling, that was because I was expecting you. Now, where was I? Oh yes. I can take you to some parties, and introduce you as a distant cousin. I have quite a few people in mind who you _absolutely must_ meet. I don't think you'll be disappointed, darling, and perhaps you will decide to forget about returning to the accursed North. They have so much that could be offered to you, and they look nothing at all like Ahoshta. Oh, darling, did I tell you? He's married now! So you shan't need to worry about being forced to marryhim. His new wife is pretty enough, but I don't much care for _her_. She's _constantly_ talking about how he showers her with jewels and dresses and the like. I can't get a word in edgewise. She's not at _all_ like you, darling. Oh, it would be such fun if you could stay. And with who your father is, I'm certain that your husband will be fabulously rich. After all, haven't the poets said-"

"What?!" Cor exclaimed. "Aravis isn't going to marry anyone here!"

"Why ever not?"

"Well, she, um, because…because she just can't!" he said, flustered. "She belongs in Archenland."

Lasaraleen giggled. "She was born and raised in Calormen. Or have you forgotten?"

"We haven't forgotten, but I think you've forgotten that Aravis _chose_ to leave Calormen," said Corin.

"Well, um – what was your name again? Corbin? Perhaps you haven't thought that maybe Aravis would like to stay here with me and marry someone who can provide her with untold riches."

"My name is _Corin_," he said through gritted teeth. "And perhaps Aravis would like to go back with us and possibly eventually marry someone who can give her a throne."

"Yes, did you think of that? Wait…Corin!" Cor's voice squeaked for the first time since it had deepened. His face darkened to a red as deep as Corin's burn, but he recovered with surprising speed. "And besides," he said, trying to change the direction of the conversation. "Aravis doesn't care about things like that."

"Perhaps you're wrong," said Lasaraleen.

"No, I'm not."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I am!"

"That doesn't mean that you're correct," said Lasaraleen, crossing her arms. "And besides, how would a boy know how a girl thinks? After all-"

"That is _quite_ enough!" This loud exclamation startled the twin princes, causing them to jump; Lasaraleen, causing her to squeak; and Lasaraleen's monkey, causing it to screech and scurry up a pillar. Aravis stood with her hands on her hips and an extremely annoyed expression on her face. Cor and Corin subconsciously scanned the immediate area around Aravis for anything that could possibly be thrown and inched backward slowly.

After a moment of tense silence broken only by the monkey's nervous jabbering, Aravis spoke again. "Has it occurred to any of you that I can make my own decisions?"

"Oh, but darling, your decisions are misguided. Why-"

"Las!" Aravis snapped. "I will _not_ be attending any parties while I am here in Tashbaan, and furthermore, when the time comes to leave Calormen again, I _will_ be returning to Archenland. If there is one thing that I have learned while living there, it is that I could never be happy living in Calormen."

Lasaraleen didn't give up easily. "Oh, but Aravis _darling_, you don't belong anywhere but here!"

"Cor is right, Las. I belong in Archenland, and no amount of riches could keep me away from there."

"What about your friends?" asked Lasaraleen.

Aravis chuckled. "Las, do you honestly think that I have no friends in Archenland? Why, two of them are standing right in front of you!"

Lasaraleen scrutinized Cor and Corin closely as a smirk came over her face, and then she nodded. "So I see. Darling, I believe I understand now. It would be absolutely dreadful for you to live here when your heart belongs to someone elsewhere."

"Oh, Las!" exclaimed Aravis, annoyed once more. "They are my friends! If my heart belongs to anyone at the moment, it is the great Lion."

"That's ridiculous, darling. Now, which one is he?" pressed Lasaraleen, causing Aravis and Cor to blush again as Corin became redder.

"I refuse to carry this conversation any further." Aravis said firmly. "Now, Las, we're all very tired and hungry. Do you think you could show us a place to sleep?"

Lasaraleen gasped. "Oh, darling, why didn't you say so earlier? I already have chambers prepared for the three of you. I'll have my kitchen staff prepare something for you to eat. Now, follow me, and stay close. I wouldn't want you to get lost. Why, one time when I was at the palace of the Tisroc (may he live forever!) I…"

"It's about time," Corin muttered to Cor as they followed the chattering Tarkheena out of the room and down the hall. "I was starting to wonder if she could get any nosier."

"You'll have to ask Aravis when we're alone. It almost seemed as though she was used to it."

"At any rate, she handled it better than you did," Corin said with a smirk.

"Shut up."

* * *

Much later that night, Aravis was startled from her much-needed sleep by a loud wail. Her eyes snapped open, but as she scanned the lavish guest chamber in which she rested, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. She groaned and flopped back into her pillows, her eyes closing again and deep sleep reclaiming her almost immediately.

Unfortunately, it didn't last. Scarcely five minutes later, someone shook her insistently, pulling her once more from slumber. She groaned again and tried to push away the one who was so rudely robbing her of precious sleep, but it was to no avail. The she gave up and forced her tired eyes open only to see Lasaraleen's face mere inches from her own.

"Las?" she croaked, her voice cracking.

"Oh, Aravis!" Lasaraleen promptly burst into loud sobs and flopped against Aravis, throwing her arms around the drowsy girl.

"Las," Aravis's voice cracked again, and she cleared her throat. "What's wrong?" She hesitantly wrapped her arms around the distraught Lasaraleen.

In response, Lasaraleen only sobbed more loudly. Aravis rubbed her friend's back comfortingly and rocked back and forth in an effort to calm the Tarkheena down. This went on for nearly fifteen minutes, until Aravis's legs fell asleep and she gently – but firmly – pushed Lasaraleen away.

"It's time you tell me what's wrong," said Aravis as she sat on the edge of the bed and massaged her legs. Lasaraleen didn't seem to hear due to the fact that her head was now buried in the pillows and she was still sobbing just as loudly as before.

"Las! You need to stop!" Aravis winced as the pins and needles feeling prickled in her legs.

"I-I c-can't h-help it!" Lasaraleen cried into a pillow. "It's _so_ awful!"

"_What_ is so awful?"

Lasaraleen finally sat up, only to wail, "M-my h-husband is d-dead! I'm a-a… a _widow_!" And with that, she flopped back into Aravis's arms.

* * *

**As usual, reviews are quite welcome. :) Thanks to all of the wonderful people who have reviewed so far!**

**Did the times and distances seem off to anyone? I had no idea how to go about researching them, so I just guessed. I suppose it doesn't really matter; since C.S. Lewis didn't really say anything about exactly how big the Calormene Empire was, I can probably make it pretty much as large as I want. I just don't want to make it too far-fetched, and I'm a little worried that I may have done just that.**

**Oh, and I'd just like to tell you all that I chose Corin's false name and my Tarkheena's name for specific reasons. You might want to check them out! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Once again it has taken me entirely too long to update...maybe that's why each chapter seems to be getting longer than the one before it... :)**

**Credit and my extreme gratitude to GeoffreyF for two of the proverbs in this chapter...he was the only one of my readers to even attempt creating a proverb for me to use, and he did an absolutely brilliant job. Much better than I ever could have done... :)**

* * *

It had been a very long night for Aravis. After Lasaraleen woke her up, rest was banished from the room, for Lasaraleen spent hours in hysterics. Several times, the hysterics seemed to subside, and Aravis began to hope that she would be able to salvage at least some precious sleep; however, it was not to be so. Lasaraleen's cries would begin to wind down only to pick up again in greater intensity than before.

Aravis felt sympathy for her friend, but she found herself growing quite weary of the tears and screams. She gave up all hope of consoling Lasaraleen when even the promise that she would accompany the Tarkheena to a party once Anaya had rescued only made Lasaraleen cry harder. The sun rose before Lasaraleen's wails softened into sobs and then sniffles.

"A-Aravis?"

"Yes, Las,"

"Thank you for staying up with me. I-It is such a comfort to have you near during this…this tr-tragedy." Lasaraleen's voice broke, and she made a visible effort to hold back her emotion. Aravis feared for a moment that the waterworks would begin again, but Lasaraleen merely sniffed a couple of times and blinked rapidly. "Now, I'll call for breakfast."

Aravis followed Lasaraleen out of the bedroom into the adjoining sitting area. The room was spacious and airy, and a slight breeze from the large open windows caused wisps of Aravis's uncombed hair to tickle her face. Potted plants and cushioned couches were tastefully scattered throughout the high-ceilinged room, lavish carpets covered the marble floor, and tapestries with intricate embroidery hung from the walls. A small fountain bubbled in a pond in the corner, and several brightly colored fish swam lazy circles in the water as the songs of exotic birds drifted through the windows.

As Lasaraleen hurried out of the room in search of a servant, Aravis wearily sank down onto the nearest couch. A few minutes of silence in the peaceful room and she would have been asleep, but unfortunately, the peace was shattered moments later.

"Corin!"

The strangled yell startled Aravis, and she jerked upright just in time to see a wildly grinning Corin dash into the room with a furious Cor hot on his heels. They came to a stop, however, when they observed Aravis start laughing so hard that she fell off of her couch.

"Um, Aravis," said Cor, cautiously approaching the former Tarkheena. "Are you alright?"

Aravis clutched her stomach and tears leaked from her eyes as she managed to gasp out between laughs, "Cor...face…red…hair!"

Corin smirked and glanced at his brother. "It _is_ rather amusing, isn't it?"

Cor growled, but it didn't seem threatening at all in light of his comical appearance. Spots of red dotted his face, and his mussed hair, instead of being its natural blonde color, was now mere shades away from being the same glaring red as that which covered his brother's face, hands, and neck.

"What…what happened…to him?" Aravis asked, attempting to recover from her laughing fit.

"I couldn't get to sleep last night, so I went exploring." Corin said. "Perhaps you can explain to me why the Calormenes keep red dye in their washrooms, but I found some and decided to see if it worked."

"You _dyed_ my hair!" Cor yelled indignantly.

Aravis's laugh pealed through the room once more, and she hopped up and pulled Cor into a hug. "Thank you!"

Surprised, Cor hesitantly wrapped one arm around her. "You're welcome?"

Aravis let go of him and gave Corin the same treatment before he could duck away, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you both!"

Corin grimaced and squirmed. "Aravis, you're hurting me."

She released him immediately and apologized. "The two of you have greatly cheered me up this morning. I needed to laugh, and you gave me a means to do so." The princes backed away slowly, for she looked as though she wanted to hug them again. Aravis's grin widened as she observed this behavior, and she flopped back onto the couch. "Now, would you like for me to explain the red dye?"

Cor turned to his twin calmly. "Corin, burn or no burn, you are going to regret dying my hair."

"What are you going to do, try to knock me down?" Corin taunted, even as he edged backward and around a couch, putting the piece of furniture between himself and his brother.

"There is no 'try'." Cor said, and then lunged toward Corin. Leaping over the couch, he made a grab for his twin, but Corin ducked out of the way at the last possible second. They then proceeded to scramble all over the room, Cor attempting to catch Corin and Corin taunting Cor. Aravis looked on, finding amusement in their antics and not stepping in to assist either of them. Finally, Cor cornered Corin by the small pond in the corner.

"Aravis," Cor called, not taking his eyes off of Corin. "Do you know how warm this pond is?"

Aravis shook her head and answered, "No, I don't. Why?"

Cor smirked. "Because revenge is a dish best served cold." He then leaped at Corin.

Aravis gasped and then slapped both hands over her mouth to hold in a giggle that bubbled up when Corin danced out of the way and Cor landed in the pond with a big splash. Fish scattered, water splattered, and Corin laughed uncontrollably.

Cor surfaced and wiped the water from his eyes. "This water is a bit chilly. You know, it might feel good on your sunburn, Corin…" he stood, the water coming several inches above his knees, and sloshed toward the edge of the pond.

"I'd prefer to stay dry, thank you," said Corin, well out of reach.

Cor shrugged and scratched the back of his red head. "Well, it was worth a try, anyway. Could one of you get me something to dry off with? I'd hate to ruin Lasaraleen's carpets."

* * *

"Ahem."

Anaya's head whipped around as she searched for the source of the sound that had interrupted her thoughts. She found it in a young boy who nervously stood in the doorway that led from her private sitting room to a small garden. "Yes?" she acknowledged him, recognizing the boy. Barid had recently taken him under his wing and was training him to be a messenger.

The boy bowed solemnly and extended a letter, his hand shaking slightly. "I have a message for you."

Anaya swiftly rose and crossed the room. Taking the letter and scanning it briefly for the name of its writer, she inquired, "Has my father seen this?"

"No, O my mistress. Only Barid and me. Oh, and the falcon, of course."

"Thank you for doing your job well." A faint smile crossed the Tarkheena's face. "Forgive me; I have seen you before, but I fear I do not know your name."

"It's Jamar, O my mistress."

"Jamar, I will be sure to inform Barid of your good work when he returns. Now, because you are one of my messengers, you are not to refer to me as your mistress except in public. You are not my slave, and though many so-called nobles in this land treat commoners as such, I am not one of them."

"But…"

"But what?"

"I don't know what to call you," Jamar said with downcast eyes.

"You may call me by my given name. Though Barid will most likely correct you later, it will do for now." Anaya winked at the boy. "You know my name, do you not?"

Jamar grinned, revealing a gap where his two front teeth should have been. "Yes, I do."

"Good. Now, take this," Anaya handed him a treat from a tray that sat nearby, "and run along. You never know when another message may arrive." She smiled as the boy took off, rushing through the colorful, sunshine-filled garden and disappearing through an archway on the other side.

Anaya sighed as she sank back into the comfortable chair that she had abandoned earlier and read the letter thoroughly.

_Your Ladyship,_

_I have delivered your message to Lasaraleen Tarkheena and am now on my way back to your father's house. I am sending my falcon ahead with this message, so it should reach you about a week before I do._

_I apologize for the shortness of this letter. My visit with Lasaraleen has put me in a bit of a temper. After telling me that her friends should arrive soon (which gave me the impression that she doesn't exactly know when they were coming), she tried to convince me that the way I am living is a waste of my time. I fear I yelled at her, but it is time she learns that my life is none of her business._

_Your humble messenger,_

_Barid_

Imagining Barid's time with Lasaraleen, Anaya couldn't resist a smirk as she shredded the letter and dropped the bits of paper into an ornate bird cage that hung in a corner. Then she stood there for a moment, watching her colorful little birds chirp and hop around their sheltered home. A green bird with blue markings landed on her finger when she pushed it through the bars.

"Hello, little one," Anaya whispered, and the bird cocked its head. "Do you ever wish you were free?"

"Lady Anaya!" A short, heavyset woman with a kind face bustled into the room, her outburst startling both Anaya and her bird. The bird chirped in alarm and flitted to the other side of the cage while its mistress whirled around.

"Daynah, you have frightened my birds." Anaya placed a hand over her own pounding heart as agitated twitters came from the cage.

"My apologies, O my mistress," A teasing tone saturated the motherly woman's comment. "But your father is demanding an audience with you immediately."

"Whatever for?" Anaya asked as her mind raced through possible reasons that he could have to summon her. They did not often speak with each other, and their most recent audiences had been most unpleasant.

"I am sure I don't know. But you'd best hurry."

"Thank you, Daynah," Anaya said distractedly as she continued to puzzle over her father's summons.

As the Tarkheena rushed from the room, Daynah shook her head, causing her large earrings to swing wildly. She had served Anaya from the time that the girl was born, and knew that the impending marriage was tearing the Tarkheena apart inside. Not only that, but it was pushing Anaya and her father even farther apart than they had previously been.

Daynah pulled a silken covering over the bird cage, effectively silencing the noise within. "You little ones have such a simple life. Eat, breathe, sleep, sing," she smoothed the covering. "I do wish the world were the same." And with that, she turned and exited the room as quickly as she had come.

* * *

"Oh Aravis, _darling_, aren't you going to eat more? You've hardly touched half of your food! Is there something wrong with it? Because if there is, I swear my new cook will be out of the kitchen faster than…"

"I'm sorry, Las." Aravis bit into a fruit-filled pastry and chewed thoughtfully, scrutinizing Lasaraleen as she did so. "Las," she said when she'd swallowed. "Are…are you alright?"

"Of course I am, darling. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Did you forget what happened last night?" Aravis asked cautiously.

"Of course not, darling. I found out my husband is dead, and you comforted me. Thank you once again for doing so, dear." Lasaraleen casually took a bite of a colorful sherbet as though she had just told Aravis that they had attended a mediocre party the night before.

Aravis, Cor, and Corin exchanged puzzled glances. Lasaraleen's demeanor certainly did not fit that of a grieving widow. Indeed, if Lasaraleen's husband's death had not just been confirmed by the aforementioned Tarkheena, Aravis, despite her exhaustion, would have thought that the night before was simply an extremely vivid dream.

Choosing to ignore Lasaraleen's attitude for the time being, Aravis brought up the plans for their journey. It was decided that Lasaraleen would arrange for their horses to be at the gate of her palace shortly before dawn the next morning, so that they could be at the southern gate of Tashbaan when it opened.

"And you needn't worry about the guards being a problem at the gate, darling," Lasaraleen informed Aravis and the princes. "They hardly pay attention to anyone who exits, unless a prisoner has escaped and there is a search for him. In a case such as that, the guards closely scrutinize all who are attempting to leave Tashbaan, and if they find anyone who seems even slightly suspicious, they detain them. Actually, now that I think of it, a prisoner escaped from the Tisroc's (may he live forever!) dungeon just last week. You should have seen the chaos!" Observing the worried expression that came over Cor's face at the last bit of information, the Tarkheena quickly added, "But as I already said, the guards won't be a problem. The prisoner was caught just two days ago, darling, and after he was whipped soundly, they handed him over to the priests at the temple of Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible." Lasaraleens voice dropped to a loud whisper. "_I heard that he was sacrificed at dawn yesterday!_"

Aravis's face twisted in disgust, while Cor and Corin blanched and looked as though they would be sick.

"What's wrong? Sacrifices are made all of the time. You of all people should know that, Aravis darling."

"_And the Calormenes call __**us**__ 'barbaric'…_" Corin whispered to Cor.

Cor nodded in agreement.

"Las, I thank you so much for all you have done to help us, both present and past," Aravis said, deftly steering the topic of conversation to one much less grim. "Without you, this entire endeavor would be near impossible."

Lasaraleen tossed her hair proudly. "I know, darling. Now, I'm curious. How long do you think it will take for us to reach the palace of Iresh Tarkaan? I've never traveled horseback for a long distance before. I've always been pulled in a covered carriage behind a horse. I must say, Aravis, this is perfectly thrilling!"

"What! You are not coming with us!" Corin blurted, giving voice to the thought that was running through the heads of both his twin and Aravis.

"Oh, don't be silly, darling. Of course I'm going."

"No offense, Lasaraleen," Cor said slowly. "But we hadn't exactly planned on your coming along. It would probably be best if you stay here."

"It may be best, but then again, it may not. What if you need my help when you are already miles away? No, darling, I _absolutely insist_ upon making this journey with you."

"Las," Aravis said, putting a hand on her friend's arm. "Thank you for your very kind and sacrificial offer, but I am certain that we will manage perfectly fine without you. We will be sure to tell you every detail when we return to Tashbaan, and…"

Aravis was interrupted quite suddenly by a loud wail from Lasaraleen. The Tarkheena threw herself at the startled girl. Dumbfounded, Cor and Corin gaped at Lasaraleen's sudden mood swing, and Aravis found herself in déjà vou.

"Oh, _darling_!" Lasaraleen blubbered. "How could you even _think_ of leaving me in a time such as this?"

"In a time such as what, Las?"

"I'm a _widow_!"

Cor crossed his arms and said, "You didn't seem to care much about that a minute ago."

"Don't be silly! My husband is dead!" Lasaraleen's voice took on a higher pitch, and she turned her teary eyes to Aravis. "And you, Aravis darling, want to leave me in my time of need! I thought you were my _friend_!"

"Las," Aravis said calmly. "You need to calm down."

"No!" Lasaraleen cried. "I _won't_ calm down! I am a young widow that hasn't borne an heir for her deceased husband! I'm disgraced, and I'll be returned to my family when my husband's estate is returned to his. No one will ever want to marry me again, and as for my social life…it is over!" Lasaraleen dissolved into loud sobs. "I…I'll ne-never be h-happy a-again!"

Aravis, Cor, and Corin finally realized that Lasaraleen was not grieving for her late husband, but for her social standing and all of the advantages that came from being married to a rich Tarkaan. Aside from the previous night, Aravis had never before seen Lasaraleen in such a broken state and was not certain of what to do about it. She could tell that Cor and Corin were uncomfortable, and allowing the Tarkheena to hysterically sob for hours would not do anyone any good. However, Lasaraleen's cries echoed through the room for a good half hour before working up to another loud wail.

"Oh, darling! _Please_ don't leave me tomorrow! I don't know what I would do without you! You are my only friend, darling…please don't desert me!" Lasaraleen begged.

Lasaraleen's pleas went continued, and Aravis quickly discovered that her friend's sobs were much easier to tolerate. The Tarkheena truly did look pitiful…her hair was mussed, her clothes rumpled, and her streaming tears were making her eye paint run. There was only so much Aravis could take, and between her lack of sleep and Lasaraleen's current state, Aravis knew it would not be long before she would snap. She was correct.

"All right, Las! All right! I won't leave you! Just stop carrying on so!" Aravis pushed Lasaraleen away and stood.

Lasaraleen, shocked into silence for the moment, sat quietly on the floor as Cor and Corin, equally shocked, stared at Aravis as though she had grown a second head.

"Aravis, are you mad? You can't stay in Tashbaan." Cor finally broke the silence.

"I'm not staying in Tashbaan, Cor."

"Then you just lied to Lasaraleen,"

"No."

"Then…wait, you can't mean…" Cor's eyes widened in horror when Aravis refused to meet them. "You do! Aravis, we can't take her with us!"

"I have no other choice."

"You must be mad," Corin put in. "Leave her here. She'll survive…and besides, we don't have enough horses for her to come."

Aravis sighed. "Corin, do you honestly think that Lasaraleen's stable doesn't have a horse for her to ride?"

"I refuse to travel with her!"

"I can't leave her behind. So either I will stay here, or she will come with us."

"Aravis," Cor pleaded. "It isn't fair for you to give us an ultimatum."

"Las needs me,"

"So does Anaya!"

"Las is my friend, and though she may grate on my nerves at times, it wouldn't be right for me to leave her. You didn't leave me when I was trapped in Tashbaan, Cor, and we fought constantly."

"You're right." Cor said softly. "Oh, I hate it when you are...fine, she can come with us."

"Oh, thank you, darlings! You won't regret this!" Lasaraleen sprang at Aravis and Cor and threw her arms around them while Corin sputtered indignantly about how bringing the Tarkheena with them would be sure to turn into a disaster.

Aravis untangled herself from Lasaraleen's arms. "Las, you'd best go pack the things you'll need. And remember we'll only have five horses to carry us, our things, and Anaya when we've rescued her."

"Of course, darling. Don't worry, I know how to pack lightly." Lasaraleen giggled and turned to Cor. "When I return, I'll bring something to dull that _absolutely awful_ red color in your hair. It doesn't suit you at all…what on earth did you do to it?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and swept out of the room, leaving the scent of expensive perfume in her wake.

"We're going to have to go through her things tomorrow. Lasaraleen's definition of 'lightly packed' baggage would take a caravan to transport," Aravis remarked. "I do hope she leaves her monkey behind…" With that, she retreated to her room to take a much-needed nap.

* * *

"It pleases me to see you arriving promptly this time, O my daughter,"

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes, I do desire to please you."

Iresh chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "If the words you speak were true, you would not have immediately reverted to your old ways mere days after I gave you a warning. Will you never cease to disobey me?"

"O my father, if your trusted slave has told you that I have set foot out of your house since your warning, I assure you that he has spoken falsely."

"There have been no recent reports of you sneaking about. However, I was informed that your favorite messenger was dispatched with a message to Tashbaan a week ago." Iresh paused and popped a piece of fruit in his mouth, chewing slowly as his piercing gaze rested on his daughter.

Anaya shifted under the scrutiny. "O my father, I apologize if I have offended you by sending a message to a friend, but you gave me no reason to believe that you had included the sending of harmless letters in your list of suspicious-and-therefore-forbidden activities."

Iresh raised a thick eyebrow. "Would you care to enlighten me as to the identity of the friend whom the inexorable, irresistible Tash was pleased to bless with the fortune of receiving your 'harmless letter'?"

"Lasaraleen Tarkheena."

Anaya, though the gravity of the situation weighed greatly upon her, struggled with hiding her amusement and nearly giggled at the expression that came over her father's face when Lasaraleen's name was mentioned. Clearly, Iresh remembered his daughter's silly, loquacious friend and realized the utter ridiculousness of the very idea that anyone would ever send Lasaraleen a suspicious letter. "_Hopefully that will deter him…_" Anaya thought.

That hope was dashed when her father recovered and spoke again. "I understand you accepted a message today, and that it arrived by way of a falcon that happens to belong to the very messenger you sent to Tashbaan." Seeing the nervous expression that briefly crossed Anaya's face, Iresh added, "I, unfortunately, didn't learn of it until you had received it, but the slave that observed its delivery told me that it was given to you with utmost secrecy."

"Do you distrust me so much that you would have your slaves spy on me every minute of every day?!" Anaya exclaimed angrily. "Perhaps I would rather that my father not read every letter that is sent to me before I myself do so!"

Iresh leaned forward in his chair. "Perhaps now that you have read the letter, you would not mind my reading it."

Anaya snorted in disbelief. "Are you really suspicious of Lasaraleen?"

"Is there a reason I should be, O my daughter?" Iresh smirked. "I wish to read the letter."

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes," Anaya said sarcastically. "I fear that your wish is one that can never be granted. For you see, I have already disposed of it."

"How convenient…I suppose, O my daughter, that it is beyond recovery and repair?"

"O my father, you would have to be a great magician to read even one sentence," Anaya said smugly.

"O my daughter, a great poet once said, 'Secrets kept from the wise are always found out.'"

"Of this, I am quite aware."

Iresh smirked once more. "But you are arrogant enough to believe that your secret will be an exception. Arrogance, Anaya, suits you as well as a golden ring in a hog's snout." He sighed and leaned back into the cushions of his chair. "Nevertheless, this conversation has, strangely enough, put me favorably disposed toward you, despite your disrespect toward me. I know that I shall soon learn what you have been plotting, and then I can send for your betrothed. I must confess that dealing with you is exhausting. I believe that I have done more than my lifetime's share of disciplining you; it's past time that another man takes over the task."

Anaya swallowed back the hurt that pricked her heart at Iresh's thoughtless words. "O my father and O the delight of my eyes, may I ask you a question?"

Iresh lazily waved a hand at her. "Proceed,"

"Is the reason you have just given me the only reason that you are forcing me to marry Deshan Tarkaan?" Anaya braced herself for his answer.

"O my daughter, one of the poets has wisely said, 'The unmarried woman is helpless as the mewling babe; only with a husband can she attain respect and influence.'" Iresh yawned. "Do you wish to remain helpless for the rest of your life?"

"But with no disrespect to you or the great poets, O my father, I already possess some respect and influence. Perhaps I do not desire more. And there _are_ unmarried women with respect and influence…the Queens of Narnia, for example."

Iresh looked Anaya in the eye. "The barbarian queens do not rule alone. Their brothers are the true ruling authority; the queens are merely pawns. What man in his right mind would suffer a woman to rule alongside him equally? And the queens may have respect and influence in the disordered and accursed countries of the North, but in Calormen they are nothing more than a couple of barbarically beautiful faces with titles."

"But…"

"But nothing. When the time comes, you will marry your betrothed."

"I don't love him," Anaya murmured softly. "I don't even like him. Tales of his cruelty abound, and Lasaraleen has told me much of him."

"Another of the poets has said that if enduring affection does not spring swiftly to thy mind, you must search deeper within the caverns of thy heart." Iresh rose from his chair and headed toward the door, patting Anaya on the shoulder as he passed her. "O my daughter, do not trouble yourself over this matter. Your betrothed is a handsome, rich, and powerful man. Is that not all a girl dreams of in a husband?" He smiled and patted her cheek, then strode out the door.

"O my father," Anaya said to the scented air when he was gone. "If you truly believe your words, then your knowledge of me is far more lacking than I had ever thought."

* * *

**I don't really have anything more to say; just thank you to my readers and reviewers. I truly do appreciate you! :)**

**Oh, and does anyone want me to tell them what Anaya and Corin's false names mean (according to my source)?**


	6. Chapter 6

**I feel so happy to be updating so soon...maybe I need to set a deadline for myself more often! :) I hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

"Oh, but darling, I _need_ that!" Lasaraleen whined for the fifth time that morning.

"It's too heavy, Las," Aravis said, referring to the small wooden chest that was packed full of expensive jewelry. "You may choose a couple of things to carry, but you'll have to leave the rest behind."

It was still dark, though the stars were beginning to disappear and the eastern sky was slightly tinged with pink. Most of Tashbaan was still asleep, but Aravis and the princes had been in Lasaraleen's courtyard for nearly an hour sorting through Lasaraleen's expansive array of baggage. When they were nearly finished, Lasaraleen had arrived to find her things divided into two piles. A large heap of boxes and trunks was the first to draw her eye, and the second, much smaller pile, which Cor and Corin were preparing to load onto Lasaraleen's horse, seemed nearly miniscule in comparison. Lasaraleen, when she had taken in what was occurring, had immediately dashed to the larger pile of her things and started snatching various items from it, insisting that they were necessary for her comfort and survival.

This went on for nearly a quarter of an hour, and by the time Lasaraleen was finished sorting through her baggage, her pile of things for the journey had grown to the point at which another horse was necessary for its transportation. Aravis did her best to be patient with her friend, and allowed Lasaraleen to take along several unneeded and trivial items which would have no use whatsoever on their journey. However, when Lasaraleen ran inside and returned with her pet monkey, Aravis put her foot down.

"Las, your monkey is not coming with us," Aravis said sternly, staring at the creature pointedly.

"Oh, but Aravis darling, he will be _so_ lonely without me! He will be all alone in the palace…think of it, darling. He will be _so_ unhappy!"

Aravis shook her head. "You have servants, don't you? He won't be lonely. And he would be happier staying in your palace where he's coddled and spoiled than if he came on a long, dangerous journey with you."

Lasaraleen held the monkey closer and pouted. "But I can't leave him!"

"You must, Las. He is not coming," Aravis declared firmly, and that was the end of it.

* * *

Though the sun had not quite yet risen, the sky was considerably brighter when the front gate of Lasaraleen Tarkheena's palace opened and six horses sallied out, cautiously led by four nervous young people. Well, three of them were nervous…

"Oh darling, isn't it _perfectly thrilling_ to be out on the streets this early?" Lasaraleen whispered loudly. "And to think, no one knows what we are up to! It's _frightfully_ funny." She giggled.

"Shh!" Cor hushed the Tarkheena, and Lasaraleen made a face at him before tossing her hair over her shoulder and shutting her mouth.

Parts of the city were beginning to stir. Once the group had exited Lasaraleen's still-sleeping upper class neighborhood, they began to pass portly shopkeepers setting out their various wares, frazzled servants and slaves getting a head start on morning errands, and middle class women sweeping their front thresholds. The farther they traveled away from the center of Tashbaan, the more traffic there was in the narrowing streets. Scruffy dogs scurried around underfoot, chasing after mangy cats and the occasional rat; the latter of which nearly sent Lasaraleen into the arms of her nearest companion (most often Corin) with a shriek in several instances.

When they finally reached the southern gate of Tashbaan, the sun had completely risen and was beginning to warm the stone street beneath their shoes. Mere seconds after they arrived, the air around them throbbed with the deep, solemn sound of the horns calling for the gates of Tashbaan to be opened. Soon, the four companions and their six horses were moving along with the crowd of people that had gathered to exit the city.

Lasaraleen had been right; the guards paid no mind to them as they passed, but when they were nearly through the gate, disaster struck. A large man clothed in the garb of a middle class merchant lost his balance and fell against Lasaraleen while trying to regain it. He stepped on her foot and nearly knocked her to the ground in the process, and Lasaraleen let out a loud screech.

"How dare you!"

The man expressed a quick apology, but the Tarkheena did not let the matter drop. Before Aravis, Cor, or Corin could do anything, Lasaraleen brought the procession through the gate to a complete standstill as she proceeded to yell at the poor merchant.

"You've hurt my foot!" she said angrily. "And what gives you the right to trample all over me as if I'm some common slave? Do you _know_ who I am?"

The eyes of Aravis, Cor, and Corin widened in horror when they realized what Lasaraleen was about to say. And to make matters worse, a couple of guards were making their way through the crowd to find out what had brought traffic through the gate to a halt.

"_Do you know who I am?_" Lasaraleen repeated her question, her voice taking on a higher pitch as she drew herself up tall. The man shook his head and apologized again.

"Corin, do something!" Aravis hissed frantically over the back of her horse. "You're the closest."

"Well, then, I shall tell you who I am, darling." Lasaraleen stepped closer to the merchant. "I am Las…mmphhh!"

Lasaraleen's announcement was cut off abruptly when Corin dropped the reins of the two horses he led and sprang at the foolish Tarkheena. He slapped a hand over her mouth and weakly smiled at the startled onlookers while Aravis handed her reins to Cor and made her way over.

"Thank you, Banji," Aravis said calmly to Corin while her eyes nervously glanced toward the guards that were pushing their way ever closer. "Sir," she quickly spoke to the merchant. "I apologize for…Lasra's behavior. She tends to overreact when she is in pain."

The merchant stared at the group: Corin, still plastered with a sheepish grin; Cor, attempting to gather and juggle the reins of six horses; Lasaraleen, appearing as though she wanted to speak again; and Aravis, standing tall and proud with an earnest, nervous expression of apology on her face. The man shrugged and walked away, casting a strange glance over his shoulder at them as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hurry!" Aravis whispered loudly to her friends as she snatched her horse's reins from Cor. "Those guards are nearly on top of us!"

People and animals began to flow smoothly through the gate once more as the blockage dissolved. Cor led the way, followed by the others single file, Lasaraleen sandwiched firmly between Corin and Aravis. Soon, they were free from the towering walls of Tashbaan, crossing the wide bridge, and leaving two puzzled guards scratching their heads behind them.

"Is something wrong, Corin?" Aravis asked as they mounted their horses a fair distance away from the city.

Corin had a dark look on his face, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Lasaraleen. The Tarkheena was attempting to climb into her saddle with Cor's help. However, no sooner was she sitting on the back of her horse than she was immediately falling off the other side with a loud screech. Corin winced as the shrill sound pierced his eardrums.

"The next time we decide to exit Tashbaan with Lasaraleen, remind me to gag her."

* * *

"How much longer, darling? I don't think I can take much more of this!"

Cor rolled his eyes and sighed wearily as Lasaraleen complained and squirmed behind him. After several attempts to get Lasaraleen on her own horse had failed, Aravis had decided that it would be easiest for the Tarkheena to ride with someone else until she developed enough of a feel for riding and could cope by herself. Aravis had not realized before they set out that Lasaraleen had never ridden astride before, and, in addition, had not ridden at all since she was very young. Corin had immediately refused to share his horse with Lasaraleen, and Aravis had cleverly tricked Cor into allowing Lasaraleen to ride with him.

"_We'll see how __**she**__ likes it tomorrow_," Cor thought grumpily.

"Aravis darling, we simply _must_ stop. I feel faint!" Lasaraleen put a hand to her forehead dramatically, leaning back and nearly tugging Cor off the back of the horse in the process. He shifted quickly to keep his seat.

"Lasaraleen," Aravis called from her position in front. "We've hardly been traveling for two hours. I don't plan on stopping until we are ready for lunch."

"But the sun is dreadfully hot, darling," Lasaraleen whined.

"We haven't even reached the hottest part of the day," Aravis informed her. Then, glancing back and seeing the pained expression on the Tarkheena's face, she added, "Don't worry, Las, soon we'll be riding in the woods. The shade should give you some relief, and we'll rest while the sun is at its hottest."

Lasaraleen sighed loudly, making certain that her companions understood the unfortunate plight she was enduring. However, she then shut her mouth for the time being and Cor found himself inwardly breathing his own sigh...one of relief.

* * *

Anaya fixed a perplexed stare on the curtained door in front of her. She could hear two deep male voices beyond it, speaking in light conversation. One voice she recognized as her father's, but the other she could not identify. This fact bothered her, for she prided herself in being able to hear a voice once and remember it perfectly later on. Confident in her memory, she quickly concluded that she had never met the man who was currently conversing with her father.

Straightening her shoulders and fixing her face into an expressionless mask, Anaya pushed the curtain aside and stepped gracefully into her father's audience room. She cleared her throat softly and heard the conversation on the other side of the room come to a halt as she stood just inside the door, keeping her eyes demurely on the floor and studying the intricate marble tile pattern there.

"Ah, Anaya. O my daughter, you may come in." Her father spoke, and she could tell by his tone of voice that he was in a jovial mood. Anaya felt her heart sink in dread.

Keeping her gaze on the floor out of respect for her father's visitor, whom she assumed to be important, Anaya stepped forward and fluidly crossed the room, feeling the eyes of both men studying her every movement. By the time she reached her father's side, her nerves were on edge. She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

"She is every bit as lovely as any of the Tarkheenas in Tashbaan, and perhaps more so." The stranger broke the silence that had fallen over the room, and Anaya filed his voice away in her memory. Strong, smooth, cold…she detected quite a bit of pride in his voice as well, and not a small amount of cruelty. Shivering inwardly, she immediately decided that this was a powerful and potentially dangerous man whom she did not wish to be around for long. Anaya mentally pleaded with her father to reveal his reason for summoning her and dismiss her quickly.

"My daughter is nearly as beautiful as her mother was," Iresh said proudly.

"O lord of Norovar, your wife must have been truly beautiful indeed for her loveliness to surpass that of your daughter," the stranger replied smoothly, his flattery falling upon the eager ears of Iresh.

Anaya felt her face grow hot. She hated being the subject of empty flattery, especially when it was spoken as though she was not even there. The urge to correct her father's guest suddenly rose within her; thankfully, her father spoke again and unknowingly prevented her from thoughtlessly lashing out.

"Though she has departed to the halls of Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible…part of my wife still lives on in my daughter." Iresh put a hand under Anaya's chin and gently lifted it. Anaya's breath caught in her throat as he stared into her eyes; her father had not looked at her like this since before her mother had died. The Tarkheena thought she glimpsed the tiniest bit of caring in his gaze, and perhaps even a bit of mist in his gleaming eyes. But though Anaya wished it could last, the fleeting moment was gone as quickly as it had come, for Iresh cleared his throat and broke the delicate connection that had formed.

"O my daughter, I fear I have left you in the dark as to the identity of my guest for too long…" he began to speak, and for the first time, Anaya shifted her gaze to the stranger that stood mere feet away. He was powerfully built, and his frame was covered in the lavish and colorful garb of a rich and powerful Tarkaan. She found it necessary to tilt her head back to study his face, due to the fact that he towered over her short stature. Surprised, she noted that he was clean-shaven, a characteristic unusual for a Calormene nobleman. But what struck Anaya the most were his eyes. They seemed to go well with his voice, for the piercing black orbs were cold and cruel. Anaya felt as though they were staring into her very soul, past her face's emotionless mask to her true feelings. It unnerved her, and she shifted her gaze back to her father.

"…and so, O my daughter and O the delight of my eyes," Iresh was saying. "It is my deepest pleasure to present you to Deshan Tarkaan, your betrothed and my future son-in-law. May the gods smile upon your meeting!"

Iresh smiled widely as Deshan stepped forward and took Anaya's small, shaking hand with a flourish, kissing it softly and smirking at her. "An honor to finally meet you, O lady of Norovar. I impatiently count the days until we are united in marriage."

Numb, Anaya felt the walls of her father's audience room closing in around her as the perfumed air grew oppressive and the world came crashing down upon her shoulders. Unfeeling, she made it through the evening's meal with minimal interaction with her betrothed. Distant, she allowed Daynah to draw a bath and prepare her for bed that night. And then, distraught, Anaya lay on her bed sleepless until morning, unable to cry and pleading with the gods that Barid would return soon to help her sort out her churning thoughts and emotions.

* * *

Anaya was not the only sleepless being in Calormen that night. There were a few others, another Tarkheena and her companions, to be specific.

At dusk, Aravis had brought the group to a halt in a small clearing that was surrounded by a leafy green thicket. Tired and sweaty, they had unsaddled their horses and cleared some ground for sleeping later. Since no one was in the mood to cook, supper had consisted of cold Northern sausage, bread, and cheese, with water to wash it all down. Lasaraleen, surprisingly, did not complain at the fare, even though lunch had been comprised of the same four components. She ate heartily like the rest of the group, and then was the first to retire for the night, leaving the meal's clean up to her companions.

However, nearly an hour after Aravis, Cor, and Corin had fallen asleep, Lasaraleen awoke from her light slumber and could not seem to drift off again. She became restless, tossing and turning on her bedroll and becoming acutely aware of the small animals scurrying unseen in the woods, the bugs landing on her face, and the bumps poking her body through layers of cloth beneath her. Finally, she could not take it any longer, and she sat up wide-eyed.

"_Aravis!_" Lasaraleen whispered loudly. "_Aravis darling, wake up!_"

Aravis simply yawned in her sleep and rolled over, snuggling deeper into her bedroll.

"_Aravis!_" Lasaraleen whispered again, and poked her friend sharply.

"Go back to sleep, Las," Aravis mumbled.

"_I __**can't**__!_"

"Try again, then." Aravis pulled her blanket over her head.

Lasaraleen sighed and flopped back onto her bedroll only to feel something sharp poke her in the shoulder. "Ouch!" she screeched. She pulled the corner of her bedroll up and found a small rock to be the cause of her pain. Picking it up, she glared at it and tossed it over her shoulder without thinking. It hit Corin soundly in the head.

"Ow!" he yelled, immediately wide awake. He sat up holding his head, and glared at Lasaraleen by the light of the crescent moon overhead. "What was that for?!"

"I can't sleep!" Lasaraleen wailed.

"And that's an excuse for throwing a rock at my head?" Corin said angrily, looking as though he wanted to throw the rock back at her.

By now, Cor was awake and watching the exchange with bleary eyes while Aravis surfaced from under her blanket.

"I didn't mean to hit you, darling. That rock was making a nuisance of itself. It was under my bedroll, and it poked me in the shoulder. I'm _absolutely certain_ I'll have a bruise in the morning; I've _always_ had delicate skin. Why, Aravis darling, do you remember that one time when…"

Corin interrupted. "You may have a bruise, but I'm going to have a bump!" He gingerly rubbed his scalp and winced. "And you _would_ hit me right where my head's burnt the worst, wouldn't you!?"

"I told you it wasn't on purpose, darling. Goodness, you're cranky when you're tired, aren't you?"

Corin growled and laid back down on his bedroll with a flop. Aravis and Cor followed his example without the growling and flopping and closed their eyes. After ten minutes of restless tossing and turning by the three of them, Corin sat up again.

"Great, now I can't sleep. See what you've done?" he asked the still-upright Lasaraleen in a huff as Cor and Aravis wearily pulled themselves into a sitting position.

"_We_ can't sleep," Cor corrected.

Aravis fought the urge to slug Lasaraleen when she had the audacity to giggle. After the events of the past few days, sleep seemed far too precious a thing to laugh over its loss.

"I know, isn't it wonderful that we're all awake, darling?" Lasaraleen asked, oblivious to the murderous thoughts of her companions.

"'Wonderful' is not quite the word I would use to describe it," Cor grumbled.

"How is it wonderful?" Corin asked, wondering if it was too late to run into the nearest village to obtain something serviceable as a gag.

"Now we can all keep each other company until we fall asleep! Oh, I have an _absolutely_ _wonderful_ story I heard from a storyteller at a party several weeks ago. It's about a Tarkaan who…"

"Argh!" Corin let out a strangled growl and stood up. Grabbing his bedroll, he stomped off into the thicket without another word.

Lasaraleen did not lose even a second of steam. Soon, she was motioning wildly with her hands as her tongue spun a sappy tale of forbidden romance. Cor buried his face in his bedroll and pulled a pillow over his head, attempting to block out the sound of the Tarkheena's voice.

"…And then he boarded a ship of the wild North, which was captained by the roughest of the barbarians, in order to follow his beloved…"

Aravis found herself wondering if it was too late to follow Corin's example.

* * *

**As always, it would be great to hear what you think, and I thank those of you who reviewed the previous chapters. I appreciate you all so much! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm afraid there isn't much action in this chapter, but there are a couple of important details if you pay attention.**

**Have I mentioned before how much I absolutely _adore_ writing Lasaraleen? :)**

**Warning: There is complaining ahead.**

* * *

The next day of travel made the previous one seem mild. Tempers in the traveling group were short due to lack of sleep, and in addition to Lasaraleen's almost constant whining, Corin was grumbling about his now freshly-scorched sunburn. Again riding double with the Tarkheena, Cor stayed silent for the most part (when he wasn't quarreling with Aravis), his pale face expressing his weariness beneath his sweat-soaked turban. Aravis found herself biting back impatient remarks nearly half of the day, and the remaining half was spent snapping at one companion or another and wishing she had allowed Corin to find a gag for Lasaraleen.

Lasaraleen Tarkheena was in rare form that day. Whatever energy and enthusiasm she had possessed the previous day and night had apparently disappeared when the sun rose. Scarcely five minutes of riding could go by without her voicing a complaint or request.

"Aravis darling, the sun is so hot!"

"My seat feels _dreadfully_ uncomfortable, darling,"

"Oh, darling, could we stop here and rest for an hour? I simply can't bear to ride any longer!"

"Darling, perhaps you should tell your barbarian friends to bathe more than once a month."

"My back hurts, darling!"

"I'm so tired!"

"These horses smell _positively dreadful_, Aravis darling. I don't know how much more my poor nose can take!"

"I'm hungry,"

"Darling, my skin is suffering from this heat!"

"Aravis, _I need to relieve myself_!"

The entire group was more than ready to rest at the end of the day, and scarcely had they tumbled off their horses in another thicket clearing before they were all asleep. Needless to say, there was no storytelling that night.

* * *

The third day, in regards to heat and sweaty horses and humans, was much the same as the previous two days. However, the group was better rested than the day before, so Aravis, Cor, and Corin were in much better spirits. Cor managed to convince Aravis to ride with Lasaraleen, but throughout the day he found himself envious of the much easier time she was having with the Tarkheena. The complaining that had soured the fraction of the trip that had already been traveled was now nearly nonexistent. Lasaraleen was unusually quiet, and the day passed with only three outbursts from her.

The fourth day passed as uneventfully as the third, and when the fifth morning arrived, Corin reluctantly agreed to allow Lasaraleen to ride with him. Two hours into the day's riding, the younger twin prince was ready to tear his hair out of his sun burnt scalp.

Lasaraleen picked up her complaining right where she had left it two days prior, and as the day went on, her whining only grew in intensity. After lunch it didn't bother Cor, who had torn some fabric off of his turban and stuffed it in his ears. All he could hear of Lasaraleen was a tinny, distant voice, and he was quite content with it that way.

Corin, however, was in agony. He was getting a headache, his ears were throbbing, his face was burning once more, and his nose was suffering as well. No one in the group had bathed since they were in Tashbaan, and Lasaraleen had drenched herself in excessive amounts of expensive perfume to compensate for this fact. Corin's temper grew with each breath he took and each sound that was uttered from the Tarkheena's lips.

Finally, halfway through the afternoon, he blurted, "Cor, don't you think we should stop soon?"

His inquiry was not even acknowledged, and Corin looked over at his twin with a dark glare. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but snapped it shut again when he observed a telltale bit of fabric protruding from Cor's left ear. Certain that a similar plug occupied his brother's other ear, Corin yelled his question at Cor, earning a lifted eyebrow from Aravis, who rode in front.

"Did you say something?" Cor said loudly in response, looking innocently at Corin.

Corin growled and maneuvered his horse next to Cor's. Gripping his reins in one hand, he yanked the fabric out of Cor's nearest ear just before Lasaraleen let loose yet another louder than necessary complaint.

"Ow…" Cor rubbed his ear, grimacing. "Give it back!"

"No." Corin said, pocketing the bit of fabric. "Do you think we should stop soon?"

Cor narrowed his eyes. "No."

"But Lasaraleen is giving me a headache."

"I've already had to ride with her for two entire days. It's high time that you take your turn enduring her griping."

"He's right, Corin," Aravis called back with no mercy.

Corin huffed and allowed Cor to move ahead of him, next to Aravis. He simmered in silence for a few moments, imagining ways that he could make his twin and Aravis pay for the torture that they were making him endure.

"Darling, I'm ready to stop now," Lasaraleen called to Aravis. "I'm getting an absolutely awful headache!"

"You're not the only one," Corin muttered.

* * *

"My poor little bird," Daynah sighed, shaking her head sadly.

"Daynah, I don't understand why you pity our mistress."

Daynah pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at the servant girl next to her. The two were kneeling next to one of the vegetable gardens that occupied the expansive grounds of Iresh Tarkaan's palace. Covered in dirt up to her elbows, the older woman was carefully pulling weeds from around young plants, and the younger woman was doing her best to look busy without actually getting dirty.

"And why don't you pity her, O lazy one?"

The servant girl shrugged off the pointed remark and replied, "Well, there are the obvious reasons, such as her social standing and wealth. One who possesses such things has no need of pity."

Daynah stood up and solidly planted her hands on her hips, staring intensely down at the girl who remained kneeling. "On the contrary, foolish one, those who possess wealth and power can quite easily have difficult lives. Tragedy strikes both rich and poor, and sadness is an epidemic that invades every social group."

"Why should our mistress be sad? I can think of no recent tragedy in her life, and she is about to be married to a close friend of Crown Prince Rabadash himself! Why, if Deshan Tarkaan were my betrothed, I should be happy for the rest of my life!" The girl sighed dramatically and stared into the heavens.

"That man is the most recent cause of my pity for Anaya." Daynah spat vehemently, causing her companion to jump slightly. "If you had but an ounce of sense in your head, you would feel as I and our mistress feel about him. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

The incensed woman stormed off, her robes flapping and earrings swinging. The lazy servant girl, however, flopped backward into the lush green grass and daydreamed about how wonderful her life would be if she was a Tarkheena.

* * *

"Aravis, darling," Lasaraleen called up to her friend.

"What is it, Las?"

"When are we going to stop for the day?"

Aravis sighed. "We still have several hours of daylight left. We'll ride until sunset."

"But I…"

"Please, Las," Aravis interrupted wearily. "Could you be quiet for just five minutes?"

The group rode in silence for three minutes, taking in the scenery on either side of the road upon which they traveled. The woods that surrounded them were quite different from those of the North. Exotic plants sprouted everywhere, laden with bright flowers of different sizes and colors. Strange birds trilled from the treetops, and the occasional large butterfly fluttered past, riding the lightly perfumed air.

"Ugh," Lasaraleen moaned, breaking the peace that had momentarily surrounded the group. "Darling, stop the horse!"

"Why?" Corin asked, not even slowing down. _"What is it this time?"_ he wondered.

Lasaraleen moaned again and started to slide off their mount's back. Cor, who was riding beside them, managed to catch one of her arms and prevent her from falling on her face. As soon as her feet were solidly on the ground, the Tarkheena put a hand over her mouth and stumbled into the woods. Sounds of retching followed, and the rest of the group exchanged worried glances as they dismounted and waited for Lasaraleen to return.

"I'm going to check on her," Aravis finally said when the sounds in the woods subsided and Lasaraleen didn't appear.

Cor and Corin watched as Aravis disappeared into the lush foliage beside the road, and seconds later, they heard a murmur as she spoke to Lasaraleen. The Tarkheena responded, and the two feminine voices exchanged words for a moment. Then Lasaraleen let out a protesting screech.

"What do you think is wrong?" Cor asked.

"She probably got her dress dirty," Corin replied with a roll of his eyes.

Aravis appeared just then and stomped to Lasaraleen's extra horse. Grabbing a saddlebag, she turned around sharply and went back into the woods. Rustling and more murmurs followed moments later, and soon the two females emerged. Aravis carried the saddlebag and a bundle of cloth, and the twins observed that Lasaraleen had donned a different dress.

"Do I want to know what happened to her other one?" Cor whispered to Aravis.

The girl stuffed the bundle of cloth into the saddlebag and threw her hands in the air. "She gets one spot on it and thinks she's not presentable to the public eye."

Corin asked, "Are we going to stop for the day?"

With a sigh, Aravis nodded. "If Las is coming down with something, I think we should all get some extra rest tonight. Aslan knows we'll need it if she's contagious."

They led their horses into the woods and set up camp for the night. Aravis took the opportunity to make their first hot meal since Tashbaan. Leaving his twin to keep Lasaraleen company, Cor insisted on helping her with dinner, claiming that his experiences as a slave had made him more than capable of preparing soup.

Corin and Lasaraleen sat far enough back from the campfire to be safe from flying sparks and wayward smoke. The Tarkheena seemed to be deep in thought, and Corin felt restless in the silence. He fidgeted; picking at loose threads on his tunic, shuffling his feet in the dirt, and sighing every once in a while.

Finally, he spoke to Lasaraleen. "So…what do you think of the journey so far?"

"It's fine, darling," was her absentminded reply.

Corin could not believe that she did not say more. "Are you feeling better?"

"I don't feel sick to my stomach, if that's what you mean."

Curious as to how many questions he could ask before she began chattering away, he continued making inquiries. "Is that a new dress?"

"Yes, of course, darling,"

"Do you miss your monkey? I'm sure he's terribly lonesome without you,"

She waved a hand nonchalantly. "He's perfectly fine. My servants are taking care of him, and if they don't do it properly, they'll be tossed in a dungeon for the rest of their lives and then be drawn and quartered and then have to sleep on the floor for a year."

Corin barely held back a snicker that bubbled up. "How many parties do you usually attend each week in Tashbaan?"

"Oh, perhaps three or four. Sometimes five or six. I quite often have to decline invitations, or I would be at a different party all of the time."

"And that would be a problem?"

"Why, of course, darling. If I was always at a party, I shouldn't have any time for shopping for new clothes, or fixing my hair, or doing my make-up."

"Is that _all_ you did in your spare time?"

Lasaraleen straightened, and her eyes seemed to gleam. Corin wondered if he should have instead asked how big her closet was…or better yet, kept his mouth shut in the first place.

"Oh darling, of _course_ that isn't all I did. Every day I have a bath (you _have_ heard of our Calormene baths, haven't you, darling? I believe they're quite famous) and I play with my monkey. And I have outings with my friends. We have the most delightful times, darling. Why, one time…"

Corin felt like kicking himself as the Tarkheena prattled on and on. Soon, she was gossiping to him and wishing she had the most recent tidbits that she had most likely had missed by leaving. The prince soon unwillingly felt as though he personally knew half of the population of Tashbaan.

Cor eventually walked over to announce the completion of dinner, rescuing his twin from hearing about some Tarkaan's youngest nephew's wife's cousin thrice removed.

Corin only hoped that the story would not be completed when the group should be sleeping.

* * *

"Las, you look positively green. Do we need to stop?" Aravis asked.

It was the next afternoon, and the Tarkheena was clinging tightly to an uncomfortable Corin, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed together. Lasaraleen nodded, and the group came to a stop. Corin dismounted and helped her down, and Aravis accompanied her into the woods.

"Do you think this is going to happen every day?" Cor asked as they waited for the girls to return.

Corin sighed and stretched. "I don't know. I'm just glad she's not suffocating me anymore."

They stopped early again that night, and Aravis made Lasaraleen lie down immediately after checking for a fever. However, other than being sick to her stomach, Lasaraleen seemed to be fine.

"My back hurts, darling."

Well, except for that.

* * *

"This will certainly slow us down," Aravis remarked the next day, searching the skies for any sign of the sun.

A slow, continuous drizzle had begun in the morning and would persist until after dark. The entire group was miserable, as the temperatures had decided to drop with the sky's tears.

"Aravis, we're going to need shelter tonight. It's too wet and cold to sleep outside."

The girl sighed. "I know, Cor. We'll most likely catch our deaths if we don't find a place to stay. I just was hoping that we wouldn't have to stay in an inn. We aren't exactly an ordinary group of travelers, and who knows if there are people searching for Las."

"I hadn't even thought of that possibility," he muttered and began listing things in his head that could go wrong.

"Oh, you think someone is looking for me?" Lasaraleen peeked around Cor's shoulder. "How _perfectly thrilling_, darling!"

"I said there might be," Aravis said. "And no, it isn't thrilling. This is dreadfully serious, Las."

Lasaraleen pouted. "There's no need to become snippy, darling."

* * *

Thankfully, stopping at an inn was unnecessary. They neared a small village when darkness was descending over Calormen, and Corin spotted a large shed set a short distance away from the road. It was dry and stuffed with fresh hay. The cozy shed was the nicest sleeping arrangement they had experienced since Tashbaan. (Cor and Corin privately agreed that they actually preferred the shed over their lavish bedroom in Lasaraleen's palace.)

Lasaraleen and Aravis, however, were not quite as thrilled. The latter began sneezing almost as soon as she stepped through the weather beaten door, and the former was convinced that she had seen a mouse scurry under the mound of hay in the far corner. (Corin was able to solve the second problem by kicking the hay several times, grabbing a fistful of air while blocking the Tarkheena's line of vision, and pretending to throw the 'mouse' out the door.)

Dinner was cold bread and meat again and did nothing to take the chill out of the young people's bones, but nevertheless, their spirits had risen. They had changed into dry clothes, and their stomachs were full, and Aravis believed that they were making better progress than she had thought they would, even with the early halts the previous two days.

Finally, they all settled down for the night, eager for sleep. Aravis and Lasaraleen nestled into the hay on the far side of the shed, and Cor and Corin slept in front of the door. It was very peaceful, and not long after they drifted off into dreams, the rainclouds floated away and soft moonlight filtered through the shed's one dusty window.

Several times in the night, Aravis awoke suddenly, thinking she heard something. However, the princes had not moved or been moved from the doorway, and no strange shadow appeared from a dark corner. No hint of foreboding touched her, and she fell back to sleep each time thinking that she needed to relax.

* * *

_I'm so hot. Coughing. Ouch. Oh, I need to breathe…can't stop coughing. My chest hurts…_

_Cool hands helping me sit up. I can breathe…no, coughing again. It hurts! Oh, the room is spinning…let me lie down…I'm going to be sick…_

_I'm so cold. Need heat. Still coughing…agony. Strange faces when I open my eyes. The light hurts. _

* * *

_I need water, darling._

Lasaraleen opened her eyes and peered around the shed. Bright sunlight was streaming through the gleaming windowpane. Hay cushioned her body from the floor, and blankets enveloped her in warmth, protecting her skin from the scratchy nest. She was alone, although not deserted, for saddles and packs were piled neatly in a corner.

"A-Aravis?" The Tarkheena's voice cracked. She licked her dry lips with a tongue nearly as dry and croaked out her friend's name again.

The shed's door swung open and Aravis stepped in with a sneeze, her hair unkempt and clothes wrinkled. When she observed Lasaraleen's open eyes, she rushed over to the Tarkheena and felt her forehead for any sign of a fever. The sensation of cool skin brought a relieved smile to her worried face.

"You're awake!"

Lasaraleen nodded. "Water…" she managed to rasp.

Aravis practically flew over to a bucket that Lasaraleen had managed to miss in her scrutiny of the shed. Soon, a cup of cool liquid was trickling down the Tarkheena's throat, and Lasaraleen pushed herself up fully into a sitting position.

A wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and Aravis barely had time to hold an empty earthen bowl under her friend's chin before Lasaraleen's stomach expelled the water that had just occupied it. Lasaraleen sank back into the hay when she had recovered.

"Oh, Las," Aravis sighed, tucking a blanket back around her and sneezing again.

"How long have we…" Lasaraleen's sentence broke off in a coughing spell, and Aravis helped her sit up again. "How long…have we…been h…here…darling?" Lasaraleen gasped out between hacking coughs.

Aravis made sure that the coughing fit passed before answering. "Nearly a week,"

The information almost sent the Tarkheena into more coughs. "I've become a terrible bother, haven't I, darling? I've delayed the entire plan." Lasaraleen sighed and weakly shifted down onto her back to rest her head.

"You are not a bother right now, Las!" Aravis exclaimed fiercely. "Yes, your illness has delayed us, but it isn't your fault. I'm just glad you're recovering." She stood and brushed hay off of her clothes, preparing to exit. "Now, get some rest. The more quickly you heal, the sooner we can get back on track to rescuing Anaya."

* * *

**I hope I haven't bored you all to death, or disappointed you after the dreadfully long wait I put you through (sorry!). Now, I'd like for everyone to know that I'm about a thousand words into writing the next chapter. If I can find the time, I'll try to finish and post it tonight, tomorrow, or early Friday morning. However, if I don't get it done, you'll have to wait at least a week before I update. I'm leaving on Friday and won't return until probably late next Saturday night. And after that, there's a possibility that I'll be leaving again a few days later. I'm really sorry, but we're nearing the end of the summer and my family seems to be trying to squeeze as many activities as it possibly can into August.**

**And once again, thank you faithful readers, reviewers, and people who favorite and alert this story! You always bring big smiles to my face! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Credit to GeoffreyF for the first proverb that appears in this chapter. However, the second one is mine! :)**

* * *

_"I wonder what else could go wrong,"_ Cor wondered and then grimaced. _"I shouldn't have thought that…"_

Once awake and alert, Lasaraleen had made a surprisingly quick recovery for the most part, and the group had been back on the road after two weeks of rest. The Tarkheena was still weak from her illness but insisted that she was well enough to ride a horse, especially since she would be riding behind someone. Aravis had reluctantly agreed.

However, getting out of the shed had proved more difficult that they had anticipated. The owner of the shed had discovered them and threatened to have them locked up for trespassing upon and damaging his property. Only after thoroughly inspecting the inside was he convinced that they had done no harm, and it took some of Lasaraleen's jewelry to convince him that it would be unnecessary for him to detain them any longer.

They had been on the road for a week since, and Lasaraleen, regardless of the fact that she had seemed better, was still coughing and experiencing nausea on a regular basis. However, to the relief of the rest of the group, she had toned down her complaining and whining. That is not to say that she stopped completely, but there was considerable improvement. Instead, she chattered about dresses and parties and different people in Tashbaan. This still grated on Aravis and the princes' nerves, but they tolerated it (Cor and Corin because of thankfulness that there was less griping, and Aravis because of worry for her friend's health).

"That should do it," said a gruff voice.

Cor pulled himself out of his thoughts and handed several coins to the sweaty blacksmith. One of the horses had thrown a shoe, and it had been necessary to take the beast into a village to have the shoe replaced. Cor had been elected for the mission because it would have been strange for Aravis to carry it out, and Corin's knowledge of Calormen was not sufficient for the task. Lasaraleen, of course, was not even an option to begin with.

"Thank you," Cor mumbled, trying to disguise the Northern accent that he had acquired at Anvard in the past few years. He took the reins from the burly Calormene and attempted to exit the forge.

The blacksmith spoke and stopped the prince in his tracks. "You aren't from around here, are you, boy?"

Moistening his dry lips, Cor cleared his throat nervously. "Actually, O forger of iron, I lived much of my childhood not far from here." He hoped that there would not be many more questions.

"Oh? What's your name, boy?"

"Sh…Shasta."

"Hm…how'd you come by your strange accent, then?" The man's eyes held only friendly curiosity, but Cor began to sweat.

"I've spent the past few years of my life in a distant place, and have developed the accent of its people, I suppose."

"It's like nothing I've ever heard before," the blacksmith remarked, scrutinizing Cor. The boy's skin was dark, although not as dark as the skin of most working class Calormenes. His eyes were blue – a strange feature in a land of dark-eyed people. And was that a wisp of _blond_ hair sticking from under the boy's turban?

Observing Cor's badly disguised discomfort, the man stuck out a large, dirty hand and said, "My name is Temujin, but you can call me Tem. It has been an honor to do business with you, O blue-eyed one, and I hope the gods will allow us to meet again. Faraway lands have always interested me, and I should love to hear about the place where you have dwelt."

Taking the blacksmith's hand, Cor replied shakily, "It has been an honor to meet and do business with you as well, Tem. Perhaps someday our paths with once again cross. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go."

"Farewell, Shasta," Temujin called as Cor led the horse from the forge.

_"He seemed suspicious. I do hope he doesn't talk about me to anyone. I wonder if he realized that I'm a Northerner. He certainly saw my blue eyes…but some Calormenes have blue eyes, right? No, who am I trying to fool…Calormenes only have blue eyes if they have foreign blood. At least the skin dye covered my pale face, neck, and hands. Unless it faded…does it look lighter?"_ Cor fretted all the way back to the rest of the group, and by the time he rejoined them, he had worked himself into such a tizzy that he was quite irritable and feeling sorry for himself.

Aravis did not help matters. "Did everything go well? Did your disguise work?" She pelted him with questions as soon as he returned.

"The horse is shod, isn't it?" Cor snapped. "I'm not locked up, am I?"

"I was simply asking questions, Cor,"

The scowl on his face did not disappear. "Well, don't."

Aravis sighed. "What happened? Did someone find out who you were?"

Corin looked up from where he had been inspecting his horse's new shoe. "Did you box him?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I didn't box him. And if I had tried it, he would have quickly overcome me." Cor stared at his twin. "Corin, do you honestly think that after boxing a person I could come back looking like this?" He motioned to his clothes, which were in surprisingly good condition for having been worn for nearly a week's time.

Aravis furrowed her brow, worried. "Did someone see through your disguise?"

"I don't know. The blacksmith seemed overly friendly and started prying, and I don't know if he realized whether I was a foreigner or not."

"Do you think he was a spy for the Tisroc?" Corin asked.

"I highly doubt that," Aravis said, rolling her eyes. "The Tisroc is not in the habit of planting spies in tiny villages."

Corin's eyes gleamed. "We could find out. I could go to the village and…"

"No, Corin, you will not box it out of him." Aravis said firmly.

"Spoilsport," Corin muttered.

Cor glanced around the small clearing they occupied. Noticing someone missing, he inquired as to the location of Lasaraleen.

Aravis motioned to the trees on her left. "She went to wash in the pond. I think it will make her feel better…and perhaps she'll relax enough to stop talking so much."

"And if not, at least she'll stop smelling like that confounded perfume,"

Corin grinned. "Don't be so sure. She was carrying a full bottle of it when she left."

As Cor groaned, Aravis let her thoughts drift. By her estimation, they had traveled not quite half of the distance to Iresh Tarkaan's palace in Norovar. The most dangerous part of the journey from Archenland to Norovar had only just begun, for they had crossed into Calavar the previous afternoon. Admittedly, Aravis was worried that someone might recognize her. After the happy, almost carefree years she had been living at Anvard, the girl had no desire to be caught and dragged back to her father and her previous life.

Archenland was her home now. All of the beings she loved most dwelt in the North. Bree, Hwin, the Kings and Queens of Narnia, various creatures and humans who had befriended her, King Lune and his sons…if Cor and Corin had not accompanied her on this journey, Aravis realized, she would be terribly homesick. Even now, with them bickering several feet away, a slight twinge of homesickness pulled at her heart.

Determination for their mission's success grew stronger within her. _"If I have my way, Anaya will experience the joy and love I have found."_ Aravis smiled wistfully. _"Although she will probably miss the comforts of Calormen…"_

Several times at Anvard, Aravis had wished for some of the things from her culture. On hot days, thoughts of sherbets and flavored ices had filled her mind. She occasionally missed the servants and slaves that had catered to her every whim. (Northern nobles did far more for themselves than those in Calormen.) Of course, there was the clothing issue…at least the clothes in Archenland, once they were on you, were a bit more comfortable than those in Calormen.

However, the things Aravis had left behind were unimportant compared to those she had gained. _"And that's without adding Aslan to the equation,"_ she mused.

But before Aravis could fill her head with thoughts of the Lion, Lasaraleen returned from her wash.

"I feel perfectly wonderful now, darling," Lasaraleen announced as she sashayed up to her companions. "But I feel I must ask…does this dress make me look fat?"

Aravis scrutinized her friend. The Tarkheena was wearing yet another new outfit, and it looked quite nice on her. Granted, Lasaraleen was not slim, but she certainly was not fat, either.

However, Aravis was not given the opportunity to tell the Tarkheena so. Lasaraleen's eyes had taken in Aravis's thin form in comparison to her own.

"Wait, you don't have to tell me, darling. This dress doesn't make me look fat; I _am_ fat!" she wailed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Las," Aravis said, annoyed.

"But I am!"

"You certainly are," Corin muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, the entire group heard Corin's comment. Lasaraleen went from upset to distraught in seconds. Aravis sent Corin a death glare. Realizing his mistake, Corin attempted to amend his statement.

"Lasaraleen, I didn't mean what I said. I mean, I meant what I said, but I didn't mean what you think I meant. If I had meant it in that way, I wouldn't have said it."

The Tarkheena stared at Corin, who was turning red and feeling quite uncomfortable. Then, she started wailing even louder. Corin felt like crawling under a rock.

Aravis elbowed Cor sharply. "Do something!" she hissed.

"Why can't you?" he responded, rubbing his sore ribs.

"Because I'm a girl. Only a boy can make Las feel better now, since Corin just made her feel worse."

"Then why can't he fix it?"

She glared at him. "Oh, yes, let's make Corin do it, since he's already done such an excellent job of handling this situation!"

Cor sighed reluctantly. "Fine, I'll do it."

He edged toward the Tarkheena and cleared his throat. "Um, Lasaraleen?"

She did not respond to him directly, but he knew she was listening due to the fact that her cries became just the slightest bit quieter.

"I think," he continued slowly. "That Corin's intention was to say that you are being ridiculous, not that you are fat."

Lasaraleen's blubbering came to an abrupt halt, and she stared at Cor with pleading eyes. One of her hands fisted itself in the fabric of his tunic on his right shoulder.

"Do you think I'm fat?" she asked in a soft, uncharacteristically insecure voice. Cor found himself pitying the Tarkheena even as her fingernails dug painfully into his skin.

"Lasaraleen, you may be annoying, and a whiner, and the biggest complainer I have ever met, as well as shallow, petty, materialistic…"

"_Get to the point, Cor,"_ Aravis thought impatiently, shooting him a warning look.

He understood. "Erm, that is to say, you may have your faults, Lasaraleen, but you aren't fat."

"Are you certain?"

At his confirming nod, a big smile came over Lasaraleen's face. "Oh, thank you, darling." Turning to Aravis, she said, "Now, Aravis, you simply _must_ stop getting those wonderful foods that you've been feeding me to give me strength. I'm very nearly recovered now, and they are _completely_ unnecessary. I may not be fat, but I have gained weight on this journey, and I have absolutely no desire to gain more." She flounced to the horse they were sharing and, to the surprise of her companions, mounted the animal easily. "Now, shall we continue our journey, darling?"

* * *

The cool night air was a refreshing change from the blistering heat of the day. Darkness wrapped the Calormene Empire in silky blackness, but sparsely placed torches on the outside of Iresh Tarkaan's palace drove bits of it away. Their flickering light danced upon an intricately carved wooden window screen as it slowly and silently slid open to reveal a being clothed in garments as black as the night itself. The person carefully climbed over the windowsill and landed softly by a cluster of flowered shrubs. Pausing only a second to be sure that it had not been discovered yet, the stooping figure made its way toward the low wall that encompassed the palace and its immediate grounds.

"Trying to escape?"

The whispered question stopped Anaya's heart and she very nearly fainted from shock.

The voice spoke again, coming from her left and sounding as though it was trying to keep from chuckling. "Your father wouldn't be pleased, and I doubt your betrothed would, either."

Having partially recovered from the surprise, Anaya quickly matched the voice to a very familiar one in her memory. She launched herself forward and threw her arms tightly around him. "You're back!" she whispered happily. "What took you so long?!"

Barid ignored the question and asked his own. "How are you?"

Anaya drew back a couple of steps and sighed. "At the moment, I'm overjoyed to see you. But I'm afraid that your presence doesn't change the awful fact that I'll soon be married to De…_that man_."

"You're going to escape, Anaya," Barid said firmly. "Even if Lasaraleen's friend doesn't help you. I swear by Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible, that I will see you free."

"I wish that were true."

"It is."

Anaya sighed again. "I'm sorry I'm being so gloomy. It's just that he's been staying here for the past almost three weeks, and he shows no sign of departure in the immediate future. I wouldn't put it past him to stay until the wedding."

Barid placed his hands on Anaya's small shoulders while she stared at the ground. "Anaya, there will not be a wedding."

"I'm losing hope, Barid," the Tarkheena said softly. A glistening tear fell from her brimming eyes as she brought them up to his. "I may have to resign myself to my fate and at least attempt to be content with my unhappy life."

Barid's heart twisted at the sound of her sad words. He had never seen his close friend in such a state before. Hope had always been something that Anaya possessed, and for she to admit that she was losing it made him want to kick himself for not being back sooner.

"If you are forced to marry him despite our hardest efforts to prevent it, I promise to be around to cheer you up."

"You won't be able to," Anaya said mournfully. "I don't love him. My favorite poet has said, 'When marriage is devoid of love, forsake the path of happiness.' Perhaps my father will at least feel regret when he sees how depressed I am once this marriage has been carried out."

"_Enough is enough,"_ Barid thought. Then he grinned. "Anaya, your favorite poet may be correct. However, I have never been married, or even betrothed, so of that I cannot be sure. And my favorite poet has had something to say about happiness as well."

Anaya brushed the tears away from her eyes. "What?"

"I'm glad you asked." Barid cleared his throat. "Listen carefully. 'If a path to happiness cannot be found, then forge thy own.'"

Crinkling her brow, Anaya asked, "Which poet penned that proverb? It is unfamiliar to me."

"Barid the Messenger." He puffed out his chest. "Not bad for a beginner, eh?"

Anaya chuckled in spite of herself.

"Ah, there it is," Barid said. "I love to hear you laugh. Laughter becomes you much better than tears."

Blushing, Anaya looked away.

"Now, back to the work of genius that is my humble proverb." A small giggle escaped the Tarkheena here. "Anaya, what I'm attempting to say is that you must choose to be happy. Make the most of any situation into which life drops you. Do you understand?"

"Oh yes," Anaya wrapped her arms around Barid and closed her eyes as he returned the embrace. Ever since her older brother had died, the messenger had always made her feel protected and secure. "Thank you,"

"Your gratitude is appreciated. Now," he drew back. "Would you care to explain to me exactly what you are doing out here? It is hardly proper."

Anaya smiled. "Only if you tell me why you were delayed."

"Perhaps. It appears we have much catching up to do."

* * *

**Well, I think it's a bit shorter than the chapters that I've been writing lately, but I wanted to get it done and up before I leave. And if you spot any errors, they are probably due to the fact that I'm tired and did not have the time to do my usual editing process. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! :)**

**And, as always... THANK YOU, REVIEWERS!!! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**The prodigal authoress has returned! **

**Thanks to Rasberry Parfait for another name. :)**

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* * *

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"This is it," Anaya whispered to Barid. The two stood in front of a small house in a village not far from her father's palace. Soft light filtered through the closed shutters of a window, and Barid could hear the murmur of voices behind the door, which ceased when Anaya tapped on the rough wood.

The door opened slightly a moment later, spilling a narrow beam of light into the darkness. A girl peered through the crack, and, recognizing Anaya, she immediately gasped in delight and threw the door open fully.

"You've returned!" the girl exclaimed, eagerly pulling the Tarkheena inside and nearly shutting the door in Barid's face in her excitement. Anaya giggled slightly when Barid firmly pushed the door back open with a slightly miffed expression on his face, but her attention was almost immediately back on the girl, who was pulling her farther into the room.

Forgotten for the time being, Barid leaned against the wall next to the door, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

The room was lit by the many candles lining the walls on simple wooden stands, and what little furniture the room had was typical of the Calormene peasantry; rough, wooden, and strong. With a note of surprise, Barid realized the dirt floor was covered in carpets. Granted, they were old and worn, but one did not usually expect to find carpets in a commoner's home. However, the people that occupied the room were what piqued his interest the most. The small room was crowded with them, and he could not help but wonder what had brought everyone together. They did not all seem to be from one social class, for some were clothed in the garb of those of middle standing, while the dress of others belied their status of slavery. The majority, however, were lower class peasants. Anaya was, of course, the only person of nobility in the room (he himself did not count), although, Barid admitted to himself as he observed her, he would not have known were he not a close friend. She had wisely chosen inconspicuous garments to wear on this outing, and without the various eye paints, rouge, and lip stains that she normally wore as the daughter of a powerful Tarkaan she could hardly be recognized by any that did not interact closely with her on a regular basis.

At this point in Barid's observations, an old woman rose from a cushion that rested by the opposite wall. She lifted a hand, and the room was almost instantaneously silent, except for the rustling of clothes as the majority of the people in the room took a seat. Every face in the room was directed to the woman, the people giving her their undivided attention, and Barid was no exception.

Upon setting eyes on her he had done a double take, and now he was quite certain that she was a Northerner. Age had been kind to her, although it did show. Her hair still retained the thickness of youth, though it was pure white. Her eyes, a piercing green, were alert and sparkling, and her wrinkled face was pleasant. She was short – very much so – and petite. Barid would even describe her as fragile.

The old woman smiled and sank back onto her cushion. Kneeling, she allowed her vibrant eyes to travel over the eager faces in the room, and a sweet smile came to her lips. Then, Barid received a shock when she opened her mouth and spoke. Instead of the thin, quavering voice that one would expect from one so old, the sound that came from the woman's tongue was rich and strong. The enchanting sound reverberated through the room, filling the ears of all who listened.

It was several moments before Barid pulled his attention from the sound of her voice and actually listened to the words she was saying. It was a story, he realized, and then he relinquished all conscious thought from his mind. Spellbound, he listened to the old woman as she expertly spun a tale, set in the North, of great adventure and beautiful love. Everyone in the room was in a similar state as Barid, and to the woman's rapt listeners it seemed as though the story was playing out in front of them. It was like nothing Barid had ever experienced, even during his various visits to Tashbaan. The Northern woman was the most gifted storyteller he had ever heard.

It seemed as though an eternity, and at the same time, like no time at all had passed when the story ended and the old woman stopped speaking. Then, it was as though a spell had broken. People stretched and stood, murmuring softly to their neighbors and gathering anything that they might have brought with them. Then the room began to empty slowly as its occupants began to trickle out of the door.

Barid scanned the room for Anaya and located her near the front, sitting as though in a trance. Crossing the room, he bent at the waist and placed a hand on her shoulder. The distant look instantly disappeared from her eyes, replaced by one of content, and she smiled at her friend. He returned the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and helped her to rise.

"Wasn't it wonderful, Barid?" she breathed happily.

The messenger glanced at the old woman, who was still seated on her cushion and had her eyes closed. "The storyteller is very gifted," he remarked.

"Her voice is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard," Anaya said, her eyes becoming distant once more.

Barid grinned. Of course that was what she liked the most about the experience.

"I could listen for days and days," the Tarkheena continued softly.

"Anaya,"

The girl's head jerked in the direction of the old woman when the sound of her name reached her ears. The storyteller's green eyes were now open, and she was beckoning to the Tarkheena. Anaya rose and joined her, kneeling on the thinly carpeted floor. Barid hesitated, uncertain as to whether he should follow, but the old woman's eyes fell on him and she smiled after a moment. He stepped closer and listened as she addressed Anaya.

"Much time has passed since you last walked through my door, my dear," she said.

Anaya sighed. "Yes."

"I surmise from your reaction that the busyness of life is not what kept you."

"No, it isn't."

The storyteller's gaze grew soft, and she took one of Anaya's small hands in her own smaller, wrinkled ones. "Your father," she stated, making it clear that it was not a question.

The Tarkheena stared at the floor. "Yes. I did not dare leave the palace for even a short amount of time, for he threatened to move the date of my marriage to a much sooner day."

The old woman shook her head in sympathy. Then, she asked, "What made you come tonight?"

Anaya finally met the old woman's eyes. "I was losing hope," she said frankly. "I feared that if I did not come, I would give up altogether." Then she smiled and glanced at Barid. "Then it turned out that I did not need to come here after all to renew my hope. I only needed to sneak out of the palace for it to catch me."

"I think it is time that you introduce me to your friend, dear," the storyteller said, turning to Barid with a smile.

"This is Barid. He is my messenger and my closest confidante." Turning to Barid, the Tarkheena said, "Barid, this is Shera. She is a storyteller from the wild North."

Shera laughed; a joyous, tinkling sound. "Parts of the North are not as wild as you Calormenes may think they are." She grasped Barid's right hand firmly in both of hers, staring up into his eyes. "It is an honor to finally meet you, young man. Anaya has spoken highly of you."

Barid bowed. "The honor is mine, O great storyteller. I have never before had the pleasure of meeting one with such great talent."

"You are too kind to flatter an old woman so," Shera said, her eyes twinkling. "But what did you think of the story I spun tonight?"

"I do not exaggerate when I say that it was the most fantastic story my ears have ever heard. I now know where Anaya developed her fascination with the North."

The storyteller leaned back on her cushion, pleased. "I am always thankful when I am able to share the love I hold for my homeland and for the Great Lion through the stories I tell. And, Barid," she added, leaning forward again, "I'll have you know that a great many of my stories are true. Tonight's was one of them. In my long life I have found that truth can often be more fantastic than fiction." She shot a meaningful look at Anaya. "For example, a prince can be separated from his parents and his brother at birth and become a slave in foreign land; yet return to the country of his birth years later with two talking horses, a runaway Tarkheena, and the news that his country is about to be invaded, saving all from the attempted reign of a cruel tyrant."

"When did that happen?" Barid asked, puzzled.

Shera smiled mysteriously. "I happen to have ways of finding the whole truth of a tale. The event about which I just told you happened mere years ago. I believe it ended in a foolish prince being turned into a – to put it nicely – donkey. Mm, perhaps I'll tell that story next time…"

Understanding flooded Barid's face and his mouth twitched as he guiltily suppressed an amused smirk. "You speak of our crown prince."

Shera winked at him. Then, abruptly changing the subject, she said to Anaya, "Your betrothed is staying at your father's palace, is he not?"

A sour expression settled onto the Tarkheena's usually sweet features. "Yes," she said darkly.

"I advise you to avoid him as much as possible. Since he arrived, I have had the opportunity to observe him and learn a few stories from his past. He would pose a great danger to any secret plans, if you were to have any. He is as clever as he is cruel." She leaned closer to the girl, her piercing eyes giving more weight to her next words. "And he does not easily give up something he wants. _Especially_ if he can gain power from it."

Anaya shivered, shrinking into herself and closer to Barid. The few shadows from the flickering candlelight in the room seemed to have become sinister, and now she felt as though she was being watched. An altogether unpleasant feeling, she decided.

Having delivered her warning and gotten the desired reaction, Shera rose to her feet with slight difficulty, shaking her head when Barid offered his hand. "It has been wonderful to see you again, my dear. However, I believe it's time that you return to your father's palace. We can't have you being missed on my account."

Barid helped Anaya to stand while the Tarkheena thanked the storyteller for everything and promised she would follow her advice. Shera accompanied them to the door and embraced Anaya before the girl stepped over the threshold. Trying to follow her into the night, Barid found himself stopped by a small hand on his arm. He turned and looked down at Shera, realizing for the first time exactly how much he towered over her petite frame.

"Take care of her, messenger," was all she said in her enchanting, ageless voice, and Barid barely had time to whisper that he would before she nodded and turned back into her house, shutting the door firmly behind her.

* * *

"Oh, I can't get up, darling," Lasaraleen moaned to Aravis, who had just announced that their simple breakfast was ready.

Cor, having overheard the remark, spoke up. "I would have thought that you'd be over your aches and pains from riding by now. It has, after all, been more or less a month since we left Tashbaan."

"He's right, Las. There's no point in faking it to make us feel sorry for you. Now get up off your bedroll and come eat your breakfast!" Aravis snapped, for some reason in a very grouchy and un-agreeable mood on this particular morning.

To her credit, Lasaraleen did not burst into tears at her friend's unkind attitude. Instead, the Tarkheena slowly raised herself to a sitting position and then to her knees. Corin, unlike Aravis, was actually in a good mood that morning, and chose to be a gentleman and offer his hand to assist her up.

"There you go," he said, pulling her up with a bit of effort.

"Thank you," Lasaraleen said, shocking him.

Corin shifted uncomfortably, the Tarkheena still hanging on his arm. "Um, Lasaraleen, are you all right?" He scrutinized her face. "You _do_ seem a bit pale…"

"Most people are pale when they've just woken up, Corin," Aravis called sarcastically from across the campfire.

"Ignore her," Cor directed, earning a slap on the arm from Aravis, next to whom he was sitting. He shifted away from her pointedly. "Grouch," he muttered.

Aravis sighed loudly in frustration. "Are the two of you going to eat before we begin today's part of the journey, or should I pack your food away?"

No sooner did Corin answer that he would eat his breakfast, thank you very much, than Lasaraleen began a mad dash for the bushes on the edge of the clearing they were in. However, she lost her balance halfway there and fell, emptying the meager contents of her stomach in the tall grass. Then she rolled over, moaning and closing her eyes.

Aravis and Cor stood and watched nervously while Corin strode over to help the Tarkheena up from the damp grass. However, as soon as he had performed the task Lasaraleen put a hand to her head, swayed, and collapsed back onto the ground, and try as he might, Corin could not get her back up again.

After his third attempt, Aravis could not stand it anymore and rushed over to her fallen friend. Having quickly forgotten her grumpy attitude, Aravis knelt and pulled Lasaraleen's head onto her lap.

"Can you hear me, Las? I'm so sorry I yelled at you earlier; I wasn't in the best of moods. I know that's no excuse, but I hope you'll forgive me…" Aravis would have babbled on, but Lasaraleen spoke.

"I don't feel well, darling," she said in a tiny voice, sounding nothing like the Lasaraleen that Aravis and the boys knew and keeping her eyes closed.

Aravis slid her friend's head from her lap and rose briskly. "Well, that's it, then."

"What?" Cor asked from where he stood by Corin, six feet away.

"I'm taking Las to a healer. She's been sick for too long, and she hasn't gotten any better since we left that shed."

"But what if she has to stay in one place to recover?" Corin asked.

Aravis flung a saddle over her bridled horse and pulled the girth tight. "If she has to stay, the two of you will have to go get Anaya on your own. I won't leave Las alone, and I don't think one of you should stay with her."

"Aravis," Cor said, a worried expression on his face. "Remember we're in your father's domain right now. It's dangerous for you to show your face in a village."

She looked him in the eye. "I promise I'll be careful, Cor. Thankfully no one around here has seen me in a while. And honestly, if one of us is to be recognized, it will likely be Las."

"Not when she's in this condition," Corin remarked, causing Cor and Aravis to smile slightly at his attempt at a joke.

Working together, the three managed to get Lasaraleen on the saddled horse, and the princes made sure she did not fall off while Aravis mounted carefully behind her. Gathering the reigns, Aravis spoke around the slumped figure of her friend. "I'll try to be back soon, but don't be afraid to eat lunch without me."

With that, she turned the horse and kicked it into a brisk trot, holding tightly to Lasaraleen and leaving Cor and Corin to do nothing but wait and pray.

* * *

**So what did you all think of Shera? I'm curious.**

**I am so, so sorry that it took so long for me to update! Four months... yikes. I hope none of you have given up on me. In my defense, though, my life has been so strange in recent times. Here's an idea of how it's been... today we're moving to our fourth house in the past year. Thankfully, this one is permanent. (Lord willing, that is.) I will be so glad to finally have all of my books back from storage... I haven't seen most of them in over a year. :)**

**Anyway, I want to thank you all once again for your absolutely wonderful reviews, favorites, alerts, and views. They all mean a lot to me. I will say that reading the reviews again helped me to kick my procrastinating tush back into gear. :)**

**So, I hope I will be able to update again before December 25th, but since I'm not sure if I will, or how our internet will work out since we're moving to the country and will no longer be able to use Comcast (sob!) I'm going to say this now... MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Oh, and I hope all you fellow Americans had a wonderful Thanksgiving. :) May the Lord bless you all, my dear readers. (Okay, I'm going to stop now. I'm getting sappy. Good gracious, I need sleep... I apologize for this long author's note, by the way.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ahem... I'm just going to apologize for taking so long to get this up, and leave it at that.**

* * *

Not long after Aravis and Lasaraleen left for a nearby village, Cor decided to explore the area around the campsite in order to do something besides worry about the girls. Corin opted to stay behind, perhaps sensing that Cor was in the mood to be alone. So Cor grabbed a skin of water and set off in an eastward direction.

The salty scent of the ocean was on the air, indicating that they had camped not far from the shore. However, Cor was surprised to discover exactly how close they truly were. He had been leisurely walking for no more than a quarter of an hour before he came to the edge of the beach. The trees through which he had been walking ended abruptly, mere feet from the edge of a sandy dune, and Cor found himself staring down at a broad strip of beach and the seemingly endless expanse of ocean beyond.

_There's a sight I haven't seen in a long time,_ Cor mused. Then, pushing aside memories from his past that had sprung unbidden into his mind, he grinned and ran down the steep dune. Stiff, sparse grass rustled as he plowed through it and his feet left deep pockmarks in the sandy slope. Air whistled past his ears, and for a moment, however brief, he felt carefree.

Once at the bottom, his momentum carried him towards the water. Cor slowed, but continued to where the waves lapped the shore. He hesitated at the edge, contemplating whether to enter the water, but the ocean made the decision for him when a larger wave came swiftly up and soaked his boots, even splashing higher up to his knees. Gasping in shock at the cold temperature, Cor decided it best not to get any more wet.

The prince turned and headed down the beach, after moving out of reach of any more wayward waves. For the first time since the journey had begun, Cor was thankful that it was the rainy season. Though the sun shone down on him, the air was not overwhelmingly hot and a refreshing breeze blew. It was altogether a pleasant day to walk on the beach.

However, pleasant or no, Cor's legs soon tired from walking in the sand. This – and the fact that he had noticed a shack a short distance down the beach – was a good enough reason for him to decide to turn back and explore somewhere else. But no sooner had he taken two steps back up the beach than he heard a choked cry and a great deal of splashing out in the water.

Cor spun, his eyes searching for the source of the noise. A small, rickety boat that had escaped his earlier observation floated twenty yards from shore and almost parallel to the shack down the beach. It was empty, though it rocked wildly, and the splashing came from a person who flailed next to the tiny vessel.

With no further hesitation, Cor sprinted down the beach, kicking off his boots and dropping his skin of water as he did so. When the boat was directly to his left, he turned and entered the ocean with a great splash. Heedless of the cold that he had earlier avoided, he swan toward the person with strong, fast strokes, sending a quick prayer to Aslan that he would reach the drowning man in time.

The man disappeared beneath the water before Cor reached him, and Cor covered the final few yards of distance in an adrenaline-powered lunge that sent him nearly all the way to the rickety, bobbing boat. Then, treading water to stay in one place, Cor ducked his head beneath the waves to locate the man. A breath of oxygen suddenly rushed from his lungs, and he yanked his head back from the waves. He shuddered as he realized how close he had come to diving before checking the depths beneath him, for he surely would have ended up trapped in the tangle of fishing net that floated just below his churning feet.

Once recovered from the scare he had received, Cor cautiously sank beneath the surface and opened his eyes once more. His heart sank when he located a still body entangled in the very net he had managed to avoid. Steeling himself for what he was likely to find when he pulled the man from the water, he reached down and carefully took hold of the net. Cor managed to tug the net – and the man with it – to the surface and over to the nearby boat.

Cor grasped the net in one hand to keep it from sinking beneath the surface again while he clambered over the side of the boat. Then, grunting, he tugged the net bit by bit towards him until he was able to grab the coarse fabric of the man's shabby and soggy tunic. The man was in the boat in another moment, and Cor hesitated slightly before leaning down to check for a sign of life. A breath of relief escaped him when he felt a pulse. Then, Cor was momentarily startled as the man began to cough violently. Water gushed from the man's mouth. It was a nasty business, and Cor looked away until the coughing subsided. Then he helped the man to lean against the side of the boat. The man's eyes remained shut while Cor hunted for oars.

Soon Cor had rowed the rickety vessel to shore. He pulled the boat as far up onto the beach as he could, then helped the recovering man over the side and onto the sand. They both lay there panting for a moment before Cor realized that he had lost his turban. Panicked, he frantically glanced around for it before realizing that it must have come off in the water. There would be no disguising his blond hair now. Thankfully, the dye on his skin was water-resistant and remained the same shade of dark, golden brown that it had been before he had entered the water.

It was at this moment that the man Cor had rescued seemed to pull himself out of the daze that he had been in. The man struggled to a sitting position, looking around in amazement before his eyes fell on Cor. Then he promptly threw himself onto his face before the prince.

To Cor, the gesture seemed ridiculous and unnecessary, and his cheeks burned. He muttered something about silly Calormene customs as he stood. Then he extended a hand to the Calormene. It went unnoticed, for the old man had buried his bearded face in the sand.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! I didn't just save you from drowning in the ocean so that you could go and suffocate yourself on the beach! There's no need for you to bow to me like that."

The old man pulled his head up, but remained on his knees. "You have saved my life, humble and worthless though it may be. I am indebted to you for all of eternity!" He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but he lapsed into a coughing fit.

Cor shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps you should change into dry clothes… is that your home over there?"

The old man nodded, still coughing. Cor helped him to his feet and they slowly made their way to the dilapidated shack. An uneasiness developed in the prince as they drew closer, for there was a nagging familiarity about the place that he could not quite put a finger on. When they stumbled through the door, realization finally hit him like a ton of bricks. His breath caught in his throat and he very nearly ran out the door as fast as his legs could take him.

It was different than he remembered. Smaller, and much more dingy – though that could be expected since Cor had grown used to living at Anvard. What sparse furniture that occupied the small room was unfamiliar and very shabby. Arsheesh had come farther down in the world since Bree had helped Cor escape to Archenland.

Somehow, something stopped the prince from following his first instinct – namely, running like a frightened rabbit. Cor watched the old man totter pathetically across the tiny room towards a ratty curtain that scarcely covered a low doorway. The hut reeked strongly of fish and another stench that Cor could not quite place. He breathed through his mouth and sat down hard on a poor, threadbare excuse for a cushion as the old fisherman disappeared into the shack's only other room.

_Aslan, there must be a reason that you have brought me back here. I only ask that he not realize who I am._ Cor pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. _Please, please don't let him remember me!_

"I would offer you something to eat, but my food is all gone, O my Savior," the old man wheezed as he rejoined Cor in the main room of the hut.

The disguised prince lifted his head sharply. "Don't call me that!"

"But –"

"No!"

"It is only proper –"

Cor jumped to his feet, towering over the confused, shrunken Calormene. "Only One deserves the title of Savior, and I am not He. Do not call me by that name again!"

Shaking, the old man threw himself to his knees again in front of Cor. "I only meant to honor you, my lord! I meant no offense! Please, have mercy on your humble servant!"

Cor snorted. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ar… fisherman. Though, I might be tempted to if you don't stop groveling."

"Of course, of course!" Arsheesh jumped up and motioned to the cushion that Cor had abandoned. "Please, sit, my lord!"

Reluctantly, Cor sank back down onto it. As his former master scuttled to a corner for another cushion – this one in even worse shape than Cor's – the prince wondered not for the first time why he had not run when he had the chance. At least now there probably was not a chance that Arsheesh would recognize him, for when Cor was a slave he never would have dared to even think about yelling at the man. Discovering that he was a prince and learning how to be one had given Cor more confidence and the ability to exude authority when necessary.

After settling himself on his own cushion, Arsheesh cocked his head and squinted at his guest. His curiosity had first been piqued when Cor had refused to accept the flattery that was customarily due one who had saved another from some awful fate. Now, looking at the youth, the fisherman realized that Cor was a very interesting person indeed. He was clearly a foreigner, though his skin was definitely much darker than would be expected on one with blond hair and blue eyes. People with the coloring of the barbarian North very rarely came this far south unless they were slaves. Yes, the boy was quite interesting.

Cor was uncomfortable with the old man's scrutiny, and he shifted uneasily on his cushion. _I wish I hadn't lost my turban._ Then, an idea occurred to him, and he knew how to turn the unwanted attention to another place… or rather, person.

"How did you come to live in such a condition, fisherman? And how did you end up in the water today? Your boat wasn't capsized."

The old man nodded and frowned theatrically, and Cor knew his ploy had worked. Arsheesh loved to talk about himself, and the prince was pleased that he had remembered the fact. That is, he was pleased until he realized exactly what he had set himself up for.

"Those questions can be answered with one story, O mysterious stranger," Arsheesh said. Then he proceeded to spin the tale of his life since the night that Cor had escaped.

When Anradin Tarkaan, the honored and esteemed guest of Arsheesh, had discovered that his noble war horse had wandered off, he was furious and had set off right away towards his home. However, his fury of that morning had no compare to that when he had returned to the hovel of the humble fisherman and servant of Tash (the inexorable, the irresistible) and learned that the fisherman's missing slave boy had disappeared the same night as the horse. It did not take much thought to realize that the boy had taken the horse. (_Never mind that the boy could scarcely ride, _Cor thought wryly.) The Tarkaan had blamed the poor Arsheesh for the actions of the slave, had the fisherman beaten, and had the man's cottage and stable burned to the ground after everything of value had been removed in order to compensate for the loss of the horse. Arsheesh had been disgraced, and even though his boat had been spared the fate of his house, few people wanted to do business with him after the incident with the red-bearded Tarkaan. Barely able to scrape by, Arsheesh had done his best to rebuild his home on the foundations of the old one, though it was much smaller and clearly inferior to the original. He had gone from living in poverty to being very nearly destitute, and he finally could not take it anymore. One morning he discovered that he had no more food, and he had taken his boat out to try and catch something. Once out on the water, he had watched the waves, thinking how peaceful they seemed. Drowning would be a fitting way for a fisherman to die, he had thought. Then he had made up his mind and thrown himself into the ocean. No one would miss him, and his misery would be over.

"But I did not even have the courage to end my life," Arsheesh whined. "I am a poor excuse for a human being and have nothing and no one to live for, but when I felt the water filling my lungs, I wanted nothing but to live even a few seconds longer. And then Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible, sent you, O blue-eyed one, to save me from the fate I had chosen and then didn't want."

"It was not Tash who sent me," Cor muttered. He was disgusted with exactly how far Arsheesh had fallen – though the man had not been honorable to begin with. Cor wanted nothing more than to be away from the dingy, grimy hut and the pathetic man who owned it.

Arsheesh had lapsed into cursing his former slave and blubbering about how it was all the boy's fault that Arsheesh was so poor. He announced how he hoped the boy had fallen off the horse and died. Or made it to the desert and thirsted to death. Or been caught by someone and sent to work in the mines and fallen into a bottomless pit. The fisherman also gloated about how the Tarkaan who had destroyed his home and livelihood had gone to war and been killed.

Cor finally had enough. He stood without warning and turned to go. Then, remembering how the pathetic man had saved him when he was a baby, he spun around and tossed a small sack on the ground. Arsheesh's eyes glittered greedily when he heard the unmistakable clink of coins inside.

"Consider my debt to you paid."

Barely having heard the words the prince had uttered, Arsheesh was already counting the gold and silver while Cor walked out of the door and away from the man he had once called 'Father.'

* * *

**This has to be my least favorite chapter so far. I had the biggest writer's block I've ever experienced while attempting to write it, and it didn't turn out the way I wanted. When I finally overcame my procrastination and the block evaporated, I was at the point that I just wanted to get it over with. I may someday come back and redo it, but for now I'm more than happy to leave it and move on.**


	11. Chapter 11

**So, you all know that I wasn't happy with the last chapter. A couple of my lovely reviewers were wonderful enough to pinpoint _exactly_ what bothered me so much about it. I actually made a decision to go back and redo the chapter before I continued the story. However, my procrastination once again attacked me with a vengeance and before I could get around to actually carrying out my intention, I was bitten by the bug of inspiration. Suffice it to say, I think I have found a way to not redo Chapter 10, develop Cor's growth as a character, and be happy with the result. So, with an apology for the time I spent dawdling, I give you Chapter 11.**

* * *

Cor made his way back up the beach. His carefree state of being having evaporated, the prince walked far from the water, sticking close to the dense, dark foliage that pressed in on the dunes not far from Arsheesh's hovel. The woods seemed to reflect Cor's mood; even more so when grey clouds moved in to cover the sun, which, up until then, had been shining quite brightly.

However much he wanted – or tried – to forget, memories of his past flooded over him like the swells of the ocean, bringing with them resentment and anger toward the fisherman he had left behind. It was not a pleasant feeling … and one he had never before experienced in such overwhelming proportions. Cor had never thought of himself as one to bear a grudge. In fact, he had imagined that he was grateful to Arsheesh for saving his life many years ago. But after the morning's experience, memories that he had buried deep within the crevices of his mind had popped to the surface and reminded him of past pain, which felt nearly as fresh now, in Calormen, in the place of his childhood, as it had years ago. And Cor could not let it go, as stabbing and awful as it was. And perhaps, if he had dwelt on it long enough, he would have realized that neither did he _want_ to let it go, because letting go would have meant forgiving Arsheesh.

But Cor did not have the time to think about it. Not looking back, he turned off the beach where he thought he had entered. It was not until he had gone about fifty paces into the woods that he started to feel a niggling suspicion that something was not quite right. He continued, nonetheless, farther in, the foliage closing in around him. The path seemed more narrow than he remembered, and not as straight. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he must not have gone the right way, and after having walked a bit farther to see if the path might intersect with the main road, he decided to go back the way he had come. But no sooner had Cor begun to turn than pain exploded in the back of his head. He fell to the ground before his mind was able to register what had happened…

And then everything went black.

* * *

"I'll take five silvers and nothing less!"

"I'll give you two and nothing more!"

A gasp. "You insult me! This is a fine piece of cloth, and worth quite more than even five silvers! Why, I've seen a Tarkheena wear a garment made of the very same!"

"A fine piece, my eye. There's a rip right there, though you've disguised it quite well, and yesterday I saw a stain somewhere. Yet my daughter must have a gown from this cloth, so I am willing to part with three silvers for it."

"Only three? I just told you, woman, this is worthy of a Tarkheena! Four silvers!"

"Only in your dreams would a Tarkheena wear cloth from your booth, old man. I will not budge; three silvers or I will take my business somewhere else."

"But it is a beautiful piece! Worth far more than that! In fact–"

"Excuse me?" Two faces suddenly appeared alongside the merchant's customer. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I was told that the healer's dwelling is around here somewhere, and I can't seem to locate it. If you would be so kind as to direct us there, I would be most grateful, O Seller of Cloth."

The merchant, pouting that his exaggerated description of his merchandise had been interrupted, gruffly informed the girls that it was the last house on the right before a gleam entered his eye. "But perhaps I might have something to help you. I don't just deal in cloth. I also dabble in herbs and healing potions…"

"Thank you, but my sister needs a healer, not a 'dabbler'."

"But– "

The girls began to turn away, but the taller one suddenly became green in the face, and before any of them could do anything, she retched all over the length of cloth that lay between the merchant and his customer. The other girl's eyes grew wide in horror while the merchant spluttered and turned red. The customer just stared.

"I am so, so sorry! Here, take these, it's the least I can do. I'm so sorry! Come along, Las." The girls hurried away toward the healer's after leaving a several coins on the table, the smaller reddening from embarrassment and supporting the taller.

The merchant swept the coins from the table and deposited them in his coin box without a word. Then he gingerly gathered the corners of the soiled cloth, bundled it up, and dumped it into a rubbish bin with disgust.

When he returned to his post, his customer was still there.

"I'll give you three silvers for the imitation red silk."

Puffing up, the merchant replied, "Imitation? Are you mad, woman? Why, you wouldn't find a more real silk than this in all of Calormen!"

* * *

"I didn't mean to ruin that man's cloth, darling, really I didn't."

Aravis sighed. "I know you didn't, Las. It's my fault for bringing you over there. I should have let you sit down while I asked on my own."

"It's all right, Aravis; I forgive you."

Rolling her eyes, Aravis knocked on the healer's door. She knocked again when there was no answer. Finally, growing impatient, she pounded on the wood with all of her might. As if giving way to her impatience, the door suddenly opened inward. A tall, impossibly skinny old woman stood there, all angles and wrinkles, looking quite annoyed indeed.

"Whatever you need had best be important, O impatient ones, for you have interrupted my nap and nearly broken down my door." Her voice was low and surprisingly soothing, despite her irritation.

"I apologize. It was not our intent to upset you, O healer of ills. But you see, my sister is not well and must be seen by you."

The healer scrutinized Lasaraleen for a moment and then motioned the girls inside. "Follow me."

She led them into a small, bright corner room, lit naturally by windows on two sides. Shelves, stuffed with pots and jars and bunches of various herbs, covered most of the other two walls, and a chair sat in one corner next to a neatly-made cot. The healer directed Lasaraleen to the cot and Aravis back out the door nearly as soon as she had entered.

"I prefer to do my work without an audience," was the only explanation given before the door closed in Aravis's face.

Aravis sighed and plopped onto a bench conveniently placed in the hallway. Resisting the urge to plaster her ear against the door, she forced herself to stay put, though it was agonizing to hear the sound of voices from the room and not know what was being said. Time seemed to drag.

Eventually, Aravis began to nod off. She did not want to, and she tried desperately to stay awake, but travel and worry had taken their toll on her. Her head lolled against the wall behind her and her eyes drifted shut. Sleep overcame her, but only for a few seconds. In a moment she was falling off the bench and landing on the neatly swept clay floor. Reddening, she scrambled up and glanced around to see if anyone was around to have seen her. Then, still exhausted, she chose to recline sideways on the bench. Soon Aravis was asleep again, resting her head on one arm.

She jolted awake when she heard Lasaraleen scream. Disoriented, Aravis scrambled to her feet and looked around, uncertain of her surroundings at first. Then Lasaraleen screamed again, and she remembered. Before she could barrel into the room and demand what was going on, the door swung open and the healer stood before her.

"Take a deep breath, O little sister. You're going to need it. Then, come in." The healer had a sympathetic expression on her face, and she placed a hand gently on Aravis's shoulder as the former Tarkheena entered the room. "You poor dears."

* * *

"_Son of Adam."_

_Cor sat up and stared around in amazement. He was in a mountain meadow, surrounded by soft green grass and wildflowers in every color of the rainbow. A soft breeze ruffled his hair, and the sun shone pleasantly upon him and the Lion who stood before him._

"_Aslan!" Cor threw himself on his face before his King._

"_Rise, Son of Adam. We have important matters of which to speak."_

_And Cor's heart both soared at the presence of the Lion and sank at the sound of the disappointment in His tone._

* * *

**It's a bit shorter than usual (it may be the shortest in this story to date), but I thought it better to make myself sit down and write something, anything, than let this story sit inactive for even longer. I'm going to be gone for a week, so I needed to write. Feel free to yell at me for taking so long to get this up, but be forewarned: I have a whole long list of reasons why. (Example W, example V, example B, oh my!) :D**

**As always, many thanks again to my reviewers, and this time perhaps a bigger thanks than usual for helping me with my last chapter. I don't know what I'd do without all of you lovely people. :)**


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